Disclaimer: I still don’t own HP. I keep asking but am getting no where.

A/N: After a long and torturous path, chapter 17 is finally completed. I had the first third done within two days of the last chapter posting but the rest of the chapter didn’t want to be written. Computer crashes, illness, vacations, you name it, it probably happened. Thanks again to Dellacouer for her beta skills and help in refining the story.

Chapter 17 – The Rock

16 July 1999

Harry woke up and experienced a horrible feeling of déjà-vu.

After fighting a demon, Harry was, once again, waking up to the unmistakable smells of burn ointments and antiseptics. Of course the last time it had been Muggle German medicines and now it was modern magical potions, but for some evil reason the smells remained remarkably consistent.

After far too many trips to hospital wards, Harry had developed his own mental checklist for ‘when waking up in a strange place and you weren’t really sure how you got there’. It was actually rather depressing to him that it still happened often enough that he needed it. A quick run through of his senses, magical core, and limbs revealed nothing missing or even seriously damaged. Apparently whoever had taken him had done a good job of patching him up after fighting a unit of Black Watch and a demon.

That last thought almost made Harry smile. Who else but Harry James Potter could have that last thought and consider it a ‘normal’ occurrence?

Harry cracked an eye to see where he was. The last thing he remembered was a trio of wizards approaching through the flames. A quick peek told Harry he was apparently alone in the room. That didn’t rule out invisibility cloaks, disillusionment or monitoring charms but it was something. Harry glanced down at the thin-looking chain that bound him to the bed’s railing. He recognized it as a standard magic-suppression shackle used by most magical LEO’s.

Now he took a better look around the room. It appeared to be a normal room that one would find in any magical hospital. It even felt like a room at St. Mungos.

Except for the thick metal bars on the windows.

Outside the window, Harry could see the decaying remains of a cement building and beyond that what looked like a lighthouse. Harry guessed the Yanks were hiding their hospital in an old warehouse district or near a port area. Nothing else in the room or out the window gave any other indication on where he was being held.

Harry spent the next thirty minutes trying to figure out his next step. His attempts at wandless magic had produced nothing and all of the magical gadgets the Fred and George had provided had been taken along with his clothes. All he had on was one of those evil hospital gowns with the back opened up.

It was almost a relief when the sole door to the room opened up to admit two FBMI agents in their trademark black suits, starched white shirts, black ties, and even blacker sunglasses. One of the men closed the door behind them and assumed an ‘at-rest’ posture just inside the room.

The second man approached Harry but stopped just beyond any possible reach Harry could have made. Harry noted the man was a bit shorter than him with thinning hair and a receding hairline.

“Ah, good morning, Mr. Teach,” FBMI agent number two offered. Harry noticed he seemed to draw out his words. It was a bit creepy; almost to Ollivander’s level. “Although I don’t believe that is your real name.”

“What is the date?” Harry asked.

The agent reached over and touched one of a pair of runes embedded on the wall. Harry was surprised when the bed transfigured itself into a hard chair with a plain, utilitarian table in front of him.

“The 16th,” Agent Two said as he sat down in the chair that appeared opposite Harry. “I am Agent Jones. You may have noticed but wand and wandless magic will not work in this room. Now, let’s start with your real name.”

‘That explains the use of runes for the transfiguration,’ Harry thought. Aloud he asked, “Why am I being held here?”

Agent Jones gave him a creepy smile. “We can start with you illegally entering the country with two females that now seem to be missing. Or we can talk about the destruction of a large chunk of Golden Gate Park with thirteen dead wizards fried to a crisp. Where would you like to start?”

“Where am I?” Harry asked instead, trying to buy time to think.

“You choose a rather convenient place for us to capture you. You were only a short distance from the primary magical prison in the United States. Welcome to Isla de los Alcatraces; the Island of the Pelicans.”

Harry felt his eyebrows involuntarily rise up as he remembered his time here as a tourist. “I’m on Alcatraz?”

The creepy smile grew a bit wider. “Indeed.”

“Does he work on the whole creepy agent thing or does it just come naturally to him?” Harry asked the unnamed agent by the door. The wizard never even moved a muscle.

“Do you know the penalty for raising a demon in the United States?” Agent Jones asked.

Harry let out a frustrated sigh. “I didn’t raise it, I fought it. The dead wizards were the minions of the stupid git that did raise it.”

Jones gave Harry a disbelieving frown. “According to our ME, all of the bodies we could identify belonged to the British Ministry’s Black Watch and were here legally to assist in the apprehension of a terrorist; one Harry James Potter.” A smirk crossed the Agent’s lips. “It seems to me, Mr. Potter, that it makes much more sense that you are the one that raised the demon.”

Internally, Harry winced at both the identification and the accusation. From an outsider’s point of view, that was a very logical conclusion.

Harry forced himself to casually shrug. “Unless you are aware that Cresswell is the son of Grindelwald.” That little bombshell caused a crack in both agents stoic demeanour for a moment.

“You are accusing the British Minister of Magic of being a Dark Lord?” Jones scoffed.

“Why not?” Harry retorted. “He is accusing me of causing his predecessor and the entire Potter clan with going Dark. He launched a strike at the Potters that caused the death of Ron, Michael and Jonas Potter in addition to the arrest of Tom Potter-Evans and Bellatrix Potter.”

Agent Jones unconsciously leaned back from Harry. The anger and leashed violence in Harry’s voice made the wizard forget that magic was impossible in the room and Harry was still secured to the chair.

“What is your proof?” Jones asked. His voice seemed to insinuate that Harry had none.

“My memories,” Harry replied. “Cresswell was in that park to summon the demon through some kind of astral projection. We talked before he sicked the demon on me.”

“Why would he be willing to talk to you and incriminate himself?”

“Personally, I think Dark magic rots your brain and leaves you a megalomaniac with delusions of adequacy. The more Dark magic you use the worse it gets. I guess that counter-balances the complete lack of morals or restraint.”

Harry paused a moment. Then he added, “Plus he really expected the demon to kill me this time.”

“This time?” Jones sneered. “You’ve fought it before?”

“Yes.”

“Ask him when and where,” a voice boomed through the room.

“Ah, we have visitors,” Harry commented idly.

“Answer the question,” Jones insisted.

“Not many people know about that incident,” Harry observed. “The answer will only mean anything to a handful of people. The incident was never reported outside a very tight circle.” A suspicion set in Harry’s mind.

“Okay. It was July 1943 in Hamburg, Germany.” Harry looked at the wall behind Jones’s head. “Do you want to come in here now, Mad-Eye? It would be much more comfortable then talking through a wall.”

Agent Jones scowled at Harry’s comment. “This is an investigation by the United States Federal Bureau of Magical Investigation. British Aurors have no jurisdiction here.”

The door opened to admit a scowling Alsator “Mad-Eye” Moody. “No, but you’ll take my help when ya get your pecker in a vice!”

Harry laughed at Moody’s entrance. “Hello, Mad-Eye. Been a long time.”

Moody stomped into the room and glared down at Harry. “I am not sure you are who you claim.”

Jones seemed to do a double take behind his glasses. “He hasn’t claimed to be anyone.”

“Oh, yes the laddie did. He claimed a great deal.”

Harry couldn’t prevent the smirk that crossed his lips. “You’re not still angry over the way I picked on you at that first training session I did for the Ministry, are you?”

The reminder brought an even deeper scowl to Moody’s face. “That was James Evans that taught that class.”

Harry nodded. “And it was the same man that dropped the spare wands into the Dachau prison camp cell where you ended up after that Ministry raid early in the war.”

The scowl eased up a fraction. “Not many people left today would tie James Evans with the Count.”

Harry smiled. “The last time I saw you, before I left to rescue my son from Grindelwald, was in Dippet’s office when I pretended to be the Count pretending to be Professor Evans.”

Mad-Eye Moody’s two good eyes widened at that reminder. But then a smirk appeared on his face. “It didn’t take me long to figure out the Count and James Evans were one in the same, laddie. But that doesn’t explain how a young lad like yourself can be knowing the things you do.”

Harry grinned at the retired English Master Auror. “Moody, you’re a fraud. You had your suspicions on who I am for a while now or you wouldn’t be here.”

The older wizard nodded. “I saw your fight busting young Tom and Bella out of the Ministry. Your style was rather recognizable.”

Jones interrupted in protest, “Alastor, do you really expect me to believe this man is the Count? The man would have to be eighty years old by now! This kid isn’t over twenty-one!”

“Physically, I’m about that,” Harry cheerfully agreed. “Age wise I’m closer to thirty-one.”

“You can’t travel forward in time,” Agent Jones growled.

“Err, kind of,” Harry hedged. “I travelled back from this time, spent ten years there and then returned to almost a year before I left.” Seeing the look of disbelief on the faces of Moody and the two agents, Harry muttered, “It’s a really long story.”

Moody walked over to the rune on the wall and pressed it to create another chair. He sat down next to Jones and considered Harry for a moment.

“Alright, for now I’ll accept you are who ya claim to be.” Moody put his hand on Jones’s arm when he started to protest. “I’ll accept your claims, Mr. Potter, but I want to know what the bloody hell is going on in my country.”

Harry levelled a serious look directly into Moody’s eyes. “The short version is Creswell is sharing body space with the damned soul of his Dark Lord father and has a vendetta against the Potter family and me in particular. He wants to claim Britain as his own, destroy all the Potters, and unleash Hell on Earth. That is what is going on.”

Something in Harry’s calm, confident statement must have reached the American agent. Jones pushed back a bit from the table as he considered Harry. After a moment he said, “I need to bring in some of my superiors. This one is above my pay-grade. It will take a day or two for me to get everyone I need together.” He paused and glanced at Moody; then added, “If you are willing to give me an oath that you will not try to leave these grounds, you can be moved to guest quarters. Otherwise you will be held here.”

Harry turned to Moody with a question on his face. The retired Auror nodded his agreement. With a shrug Harry said, “I will agree with the understanding I am on a timetable. I am supposed to meet someone in two days.”

“Would that be young Michele and the woman you were travelling with?” Moody asked.

Harry nodded. “When the Express was attacked, one of the werewolves bit her.” Moody looked shocked and ill. Harry had to remind himself that this Moody had known Tom and the other Potters for decades. Ron Potter was even a trainee under Senior Auror Moody.

“Michele has some non-human blood that has been fighting the infection,” Harry explained. “We were looking for a cure, or at least a way to keep it from killing her.”

Agent Jones stood up from his chair. “I will go put in the request right now and make sure they know it has priority. Hopefully we will hear something tonight. Moody, you can take Mr. Potter to the guest quarters.”

--BD--

The next twelve hours were relatively relaxing. Harry enjoyed a nice shower and two full meals prepared by the Alcatraz house-elves in the Spartan guest quarters in the hospital wing. The quarters were usually used for family members visiting dying inmates. Agent Jones had talked the ward administrator into allowing Harry to use the rooms for a short time.

Although he had toured the island as a Muggle tourist, the powerful Notice-Me Not Charms and other wards prevented him from noticing the magical prison. Even when the island operated as a Muggle prison, it included a special cell-block for the worst of the violent magical criminals. Rather than the Dementors of Azkaban the Americans used Night Mares. These pitch black equines roamed the prison at will. They felt completely solid but could walk right through the walls. The Mares somehow caused the prisoners to experience constant nightmares where they relived their crimes through the victims’ eyes and felt the victim’s pain. A truly innocent man would never be bothered by the Night Mares.

The Mares were rather friendly when Harry approached them. Remembering Buckbeak, Harry treated them with respect and the four Mares in the group he had approached were more then happy to allow Harry to brush them with his hand. At least until the Night Stallion arrived and called his ladies away.

“Still have a way with the ladies, eh laddie?” Moody commented with a grunt.

The existence of the magical prison was the source of the various ghost stories and other odd happenings that gave the Rock its reputation even decades after it closed. Harry actually enjoyed his behind the scenes tour of the magical Alcatraz. Moody had been to the island several times during his career during joint investigations with the FBMI. During their tour, Harry quietly briefed his former teacher and student on everything Harry knew on the events in England and Cresswell.

--BD--

It was early in the evening when Agent Jones arrived to tell Harry and Moody that the American Director of the Federal Bureau of Magical Investigation and the chair of the American Wizards Council committee on Law Enforcement and Magical Defence had arrived for a briefing on what was going on in Britain.

The two British wizards had been casually wandering the prison grounds. Harry found the exploration to be highly enjoyable; much better then sitting in his room and wondering what was happening with Fleur and Michele. Maybe if Binns hadn’t been such a rubbish teacher, Harry would have enjoyed his History studies much more.

Harry followed Moody and Agent Jones into the conference room for their meeting. Already waiting in the room was a slightly rumpled dressed man with a vague expression on his face. Next to him was a very well dressed wizard wearing a very expensive looking suit and had wavy brown hair. He was projecting an aura of control, power, and arrogance that reminded Harry of Lucius Malfoy. Unfortunately, Harry also recognized the man.

Agent Jones made a polite gesture towards the two wizards. “May I present Mr. Alphonse Di’Meteo, the Director of the Federal Bureau of Magical Investigation, and Councillor Charles Travis of the American Wizards Council.”

As the two British wizards stood, Jones continued, “Gentlemen, you know Master Auror Moody and this is Harry Potter, formerly the British Unspeakable known as the Count.”

Di’Meteo’s vague expression sharpened as he looked at Harry. “Is this the same man the British Ministry asked for our help in tracking down?”

As Jones started to explain, Harry noticed the shocked expression on Travis’s face. The expression changed to a scowl. “You were the one in Gringotts with Collins!” the politician accused over Jones’s explanations.

Harry fought to keep the smirk off his face. In a polite tone Harry acknowledged the Councillor’s comment. “Yes, I was. I want to thank you for distracting the Black Watch and allowing us to slip out of the bank.”

Travis’s scowl deepened as he glared at Harry. Di’Meteo turned to his political superior. “You helped a wanted fugitive escape?”

“I didn’t know,” Travis growled out. “I just pointed those rude Brits to Bihtok’s office. The woman and the young girl slipped out. They only said they wanted him at the time! I thought he was just another Pureblood Twig at the time!”

“Please stop using that word,” Harry commented mildly. “I dislike it as much as I hate ‘Mudblood’.”

Travis started to colour at Harry’s rebuke. “How dare you call me that-“ Harry could see the American wizard was building up to a rant.

“ENOUGH!” Di’Meteo bellowed. “Councillor, I am sure Mr. Potter was making an observation and not calling you by that name. You are aware of the reputation of the Potter Clan, are you not?”

Travis’s scowl was replaced by surprise. “You are one of those Potters?” At Harry’s nod, a calculating look came to the politician’s eyes. The room was silent for a minute before Travis commented, “I always found Minister Potter-Evans to be a very intelligent and powerful wizard. I never believed the charges the Brits made against him after he left office. Michael Potter was very much like his brother. I have no doubt he would have become Minister eventually also.”

“I also dealt with Ronald and Bellatrix Potter several times in their official capacities,” Di’Meteo added. “Very professional and intelligent Aurors; no way were the charges against them valid.”

Harry felt a sharp stab of pain at the mention of his two murdered sons. Drawing a deep, calming breath, Harry said, “Thank you for that. I am very proud of what all three of my sons achieved in their lives.”

“Your sons?” Travis asked in surprise.

So for the second time Harry started to tell his story along with occasional interjections from Moody. It was not a story he wanted to share, but he needed these people to at least get out of his way. It would take time to escape their custody. He was confident he could escape, but it would take time; time he didn’t have. Harry did keep several key items secret like where the Potters had taken refuge. He was, however, forced to explain Michele’s status and why they were in the United States.

“She is actually part Sasquatch?” an incredulous Di’Meteo asked. “But they won’t talk to us. How would they mate with a human?” That caused another discussion on what they had learnt about Michele’s mother.

Three hours after the meeting started, Di’Meteo turned to Councillor Travis and said, “I am convinced. The story is insane but internally consistent and matches the few independent facts we have on what is occurring in England. Plus Moody vouches for him.”

“I agree,” Travis replied. Finding out who Harry’s family was and something of Harry’s personal history, the arrogant Counsellor had started to treat Harry as an equal. ‘Rather like a Malfoy finding out the stranger came from an old Pureblood family.’

Unaware of Harry’s thoughts, Travis turned to Harry and said, “Mr. Potter, we can offer you and the other Potters amnesty and protection while you are inside our borders. We will provide you with any intelligence or logistical support we can without breaking ICW law.”

“No tactical support?” Moody asked sharply.

“You know the ICW Treaty of 1971, Moody,” Di’Meteo replied sharply. “Hell, Thomas Potter-Evans and Dumbledore helped draft it!”

“For those of us that missed the Seventies, what does the treaty say?” Harry dryly asked.

Moody frowned and answered, “No country can invade another or send any forces into another without the express invitation of the legal government. If they do then the treaty forces all signers to end all trade with the invaders, expel any of their tourists and diplomats immediately, and allows the ICW to conduct operations against the invading country. Basically, if you invade one country you end up taking on the whole bloody world.”

“Succinct but essentially correct,” Travis allowed. “Until Cresswell comes into the open as a Demonist our hands are tied. The only loop hole in the Treaty states that once a government has fallen to a self-proclaimed Dark Lord, or three quarters of the ICW members agree the government has fallen, can international action take place.” Harry noticed the hostility and arrogance he had seen from the Councillor before had dropped away as he shifted into a political tactician mode.

Travis turned to Harry and said, “Minister Potter-Evans came over on an official visit soon after I was first elected. I was a bit of a hot-head then…” Travis paused for a moment before a small smile crossed his face. “Well, more of a hot head then I am now,” he allowed.

“I made some comments and challenged Minister Potter-Evans to a ‘friendly’ duel. After thirty seconds I could tell that he could have destroyed me at any time he wanted to. Instead, he allowed the time to run out and treated me as an honourable opponent. I’ve never forgotten that. He even gave me some duelling tips afterward.

“I am inviting you to come to my estate for the rest of the time you are in my country. Once you meet your granddaughter and her chaperone, they are free to join you until you leave. Or they can stay here while you return home.”

The last offer particularly appealed to Harry. He did not like the idea of bringing Michele back to the UK while a Dark Lord was hunting them. Maybe a way could be found for the rest of the younger Potters and their friends to come over also. Although he knew Jimmy would argue Harry was a hypocrite to say they were too young to help in the fight. But Harry didn’t go back in time to save Ron, Hermione and Ginny in order to see them die fighting against another Dark Lord.

“Thank you, Councillor Travis. I accept.”

--BD--

Harry groaned at his luck as he dropped into the comfortable chair in the guest quarters at Councillor Travis’s estate.

Why couldn’t things ever be simple? When Harry had accepted Travis’s offer, it seemed a logical idea. Staying at the prison was not really an option. Sure, it was an interesting place to visit, but not a very nice place to stay. Travis provided a PortKey to his family’s estate. Harry and Moody arrived atop a small, cleared hill overlooking a large, deeply forested area. A large mansion sat just below the rise. Harry identified several expensive looking cars in front of the mansion.

A ward must have warned Travis of Harry’s arrival because Harry barely had time to take his bearings before the Councillor had emerged with three people in tow. That’s when the Potter ‘luck’ kicked in.

--BD--

Harry walked down a small bricked path to meet his ‘host’ and entourage at the base of the hill. “Mr. Potter, Auror Moody, welcome to West Virginia,” Travis started. The politician gestured to an attractive witch with long black hair standing next to him that looked several years older then Travis. “This is my wife, Patricia.” With a gesture he indicated a teenage witch and wizard saying, “My daughter, Cassidy and my son, Derek.”

Harry recognized the brown-haired teen wizard from a certain broom shop in St. Louis. Fortunately, the younger wizard could not say the same. Instead he smiled at Harry in the same way a much younger Harry could remember seeing his cousin smile at Vernon’s business guests at Number 4.

The girl Harry guessed to be twelve or thirteen, looked to be a blend of both her parents but with curly dirty blonde hair. Harry guessed she was the natural child of her parents rather then adopted like Derek. Although they looked nothing alike, the girl’s barely hidden smile and the excitement in her eyes reminded Harry of Michele.

Unaware of Harry’s thoughts, Travis continued saying to his family, “Retired Master Auror Moody is a legend in the field of magical law enforcement. Mr. Potter is a former Unspeakable. He was the equivalent of a colonel in our MASS forces.” Having heard from Thomas and Albus about the American Magical Special Services units, Harry agreed that was a fair equivalent.

“Welcome to our home,” Patricia Travis smiled with a warm contralto voice with a soft accent. “My husband has told me you will be staying here for a few days?”

Remembering the agreed on story, Harry smiled back. “Thank you, Mrs. Travis. I appreciate the invitation for us to stay here until my niece can join me for the trip home.”

A concerned expression crossed the witch’s face. “I understand you travelled here for some type of rare healing. How is she doing?”

A true expression of worry crossed Harry’s face. “I don’t know. I could not go with them and the healers would not allow me to join them. I won’t find out how successful they are until I go to meet them.” A mother’s look of concern crossed the woman’s face as she nodded sympathetically.

“Well, you are welcome to our home,” Mrs. Travis drawled softly. “Let me show you to your rooms and you can get freshened up for dinner.”

--BD--

Dinner was a delicious affair. The Travis elves provided a sampling of a variety of traditional Southern American foods. Harry was tempted to ask for their recipe for something called Louisiana Cajun Gumbo. It was bloody spicy enough to double as a wake-up potion. When Harry commented about it, Patricia Travis smiled and said she was born and raised in a wizarding community hidden in the Louisiana bayous. The dish was a family tradition.

The problem started when Derek Travis tried to impress their British guests with stories of his own prowess with a wand. Having taught students as well as Unspeakable and Auror recruits, Harry understood the boy was trying to establish himself as someone worthy of respect in the older wizards’ eyes.

Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect.

Harry honestly attempted to show nothing more then polite attentiveness to the boy’s stories of his duelling triumphs at school. Harry had guessed the younger wizard’s age wrong. Derek had in fact completed school, finishing second in the Defence program at the Salem Institute.

“I would have finished first, but a lucky shot got me and I fell off the platform,” the spiritual brother of Dudley and Draco asserted.

Moody took a deep draught from his flask whilst Harry made polite sounds of agreement. Unfortunately, young Miss Travis decided to stir things up.

“Why don’t you show our guests your training room, Derek?” Cassidy asked innocently asked. “I’m sure these gentlemen would be very impressed with your skills. I know I am.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” the elder Travis said jumping in. “I nice bit of duelling after dinner sounds like it would be fun. Why don’t you go call some of your friends, Derek.” As the boy left, Charles Travis turned to his guests and said, “I assume to such fighters as yourselves this would be a welcome diversion.”

“Dear, are you sure this is a good idea?” Patricia Travis asked in a quiet voice.

“Nonsense, it’s just a friendly exhibition. Derek wants to show off a bit. It’s natural.” He added laughing, “Plus, after that meal, I feel the need to burn off a few calories myself.”

“He just wants to try you out, laddie,” Moody muttered so only Harry could hear. Harry nodded as he watched Cassidy Travis. That the elder Travis wanted to use this opportunity to try out Harry wasn’t really in doubt to the former Unspeakable. The more interesting question was what the Travis daughter’s game was.

--BD--

Harry recognized almost all of Derek’s friends from the incident at the magical mall. Even the wanna-be Bella clone, Krystal was there. Except now instead of a filmy robe, she was wearing tight athletic shorts with a tight form fitting shirt. From the looks the other wizards were giving the young witch, including the elder Travis, the outfit was probably a great distraction advantage during a fight.

The duelling started with the three elder wizards watching and giving commentary on the skills of the younger magicals. Harry had to admit that young Derek did show potential in the duelling pit. His technique wasn’t bad. He simply lacked the polish one gets from the experience of truly fighting in a life or death situation.

“He wouldn’t be bad as an Auror recruit, I reckon,” Moody muttered confirming Harry’s assessment. “I could do something with ‘im. Least, if I could knock the arrogance out.”

Cassidy wandered in while her brother was fighting Krystal. Harry was impressed with the skills the witch displayed. She was the only one operating on Derek’s level. And if Harry read the signs right, she was holding back a bit too.

“Derek lost the top spot to Krystal. He claims it was a lucky shot, but I think it was he underestimated her. Derek relies on power rather then finesse. Krys does both.”

“So, why did you set this up?” Harry asked curiously.

A small smile of mischief crossed her face. “I have a bit of the Sight. Its not enough to really do anything useful, but just enough to say that if I did something amusing would happen.”

Harry recognized the expression completely. “Sweet Merlin, you are not allowed within ten miles of my niece,” he groaned. The girl simply giggled. ‘I swear all teenage girls are Dark Witches,’ Harry swore in his head.

Derek had managed to disarm Krystal and was declared the winner by his father. After congratulating his son, Travis called over to Harry. “Would you care to try a friendly round, Count?”

Harry and Moody exchanged a glance that said, ‘Here it comes.’ With a silent sigh of resignation Harry put on a smile and nodded his assent. Where the Malfoys and British Purebloods ranked wizards on their family, it was obvious that Travis did it with magical power. If you were powerful enough, then he respected you. The approaches were identical, only the focus was different.

And possibly how far Travis would take it. The Yanks had never developed it to the level of Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

Harry stepped into the duelling ring while absently dropping his original holly wand into his hand. He was watching the way Travis was preparing across the ring. His movements spoke of confidence and power, but also had a formal air to them. It was obvious the other wizard’s vision of magical combat was confined to the duelling pit, rather then the free-for-all of the field. That was not necessarily a weakness as they were in a duelling pit right now.

Harry and the Counsellor bowed to each other in the circle. Harry gripped his wand loosely at his side while Travis assumed an advanced duellist stance.

There was a brief pause as the two opponents studied the other; looking for the first sign of attack.

Swift as a snake, Travis brought his wand down to cast a quick, silent spell that sent a small ball of dark purple energy rocketing towards Harry. Pivoting on one foot, Harry swayed from the curse’s path. The movement continued as he dodged the two following spell balls.

“Impressive,” Travis muttered.

Travis shifted into high gear throwing everything he had at Harry. The shear volume and power of the spells was awesome. The American Counsellor easily ranked amongst the most powerful magic wielders Harry had ever faced. Moody couldn’t have handled casting all of the spells that rapidly. The observer in Harry placed the man in the same weight class as Bella and Christina. That was impressive company.

But Travis lacked the grace and instinct of those two witches. He was a bull in a china shop to their focused precision.

Suddenly, Harry switched from defence to offense. Where he had been shielding and dodging, he now fired off a few spells.

Travis negligently batted the spells away with a superior smirk on his face. The so-called British Unspeakable hadn’t shown him anything impressive. Maybe he really was the weak Twig he’d first taken him for.

Then things went a bit pear shaped.

The first charm was a simple Aguamenti. The water stream hit the shields to puddle at Travis’s feet. Following on the heels of a simple Light charm that mimicked the appearance of a Sponge-Knees Curse was a silently cast ‘Meltasic’.

An ancient Celtic charm, Meltasic created a near invisible ribbon of electricity that provides the same level of shock as sticking ones finger into an electrical socket. More an overcharged joy buzzer then a combat spell, it was a favourite of the Weasley twins for pranking.

The water at Travis’s feet provided the perfect conduit of the electrical charge. Travis jumped in surprise as he felt the shock running up his legs. He glanced in an instinctual reaction. That was all that Harry needed.

In three steps, Harry closed the distance to pluck the wand out of a surprised Travis’s hand. Before he could even blink, a swift kick to the knee left the American Counsellor lying in a pool of water on his own Duelling floor with a British Unspeakable’s knee in his chest and his own wand pointed at his face.

“Do you yield?” Harry asked with not a trace of a smile.

Several emotions warred on the defeated wizard’s face: anger, humiliation, respect and a bit of fear. After a moment the man nodded in acceptance.

“That was a cheap shot!” Derek protested. “You just got in a lucky hit! He had you on the defensive the whole time!”

Ignoring the comment, Harry stepped back and offered the man a hand up. “That was an impressive display of spellcasting,” he offered. It was an attempt to smooth out the politician’s pride. It also had the attribute of being true.

Travis looked Harry in the eye looking for a sense of Harry’s sincerity. Apparently satisfied, the wizard nodded his acceptance. “Thank you for a most educational duel,” he said. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

“Father, he only used spells a Sixth grader would know!” Derek continued to protest. “He only got off two spells!”

“Three actually,” Harry commented dryly turning to face the boy. “The only three I tried to cast too. Duelling 101, don’t be so wrapped up in what you are doing that you miss what the other guy is doing to you.”

Derek’s face started to cloud up and he started to begin a comment back only to be stopped by his father. “Mr. Potter did nothing either ‘cheap’ nor ‘lucky’, Derek. He showed me he is a fighter rather then a dueller. A dueller fights one opponent at a time with time to rest between bouts. He can afford to throw power-driven spells in an effort to win. A true fighter has to be prepared to continue fighting until either he wins or manages to retreat.

“You have been taught formal duelling. Learning to fight when there are no rules, referees or time-outs is one of the hardest things for FBMI recruits to adapt to. Don’t you agree, Mr. Potter?”

Harry felt himself unwillingly re-evaluating the American politician. He was a pompous arse that was convinced of his own smug superiority based on magical power. But where the man reminded Harry of a Yank Malfoy, he had to admit the man had a competence and willingness to see beyond his own views that the Malfoys lacked. Harry realized he’d been tested in some way and it seemed he had passed.

“Agreed,” Harry commented. “Breaking new Aurors and Unspeakables of the habit of looking for someone to call penalties or using their environment to their advantage is the first goal of their combat instructor.”

“Eh, they’re all too soft now,” Moody grumbled. “Except for a few of the Hitwizards or the mercenaries the Black Watch has recruited, the Aurors today are more used to dealing with petty thieves and illicit love potions than a true fight.”

“I doubt Ron would have let their training lapse that much,” Harry said, automatically defending his lost son. Then Harry grinned, “Besides, that doesn’t sound too much different then a certain training class I taught all too many years ago, Mad-Eye.” Harry merely grinned at the fierce scowl the retired Auror gave him.

--BD--

The next morning, Harry was getting ready to travel to Washington state to hopefully meet up with a healed Michele and Fleur. To keep attention to the Sasquatches’ area low, he would be travelling via a government supplied Portkey to a small magical enclave outside Minneapolis and then travelling by broom the rest of the way.

Harry was feeling a bit impatient to get underway. After all of the events of the past week, he just wanted to know if the large creatures had been able to help his great-granddaughter. Although it had truly hurt to lose friends and family in all three of the timelines, somehow he thought it would be worse to lose Michele. She was such an innocent.

“I’d end up back in Hagrid’s old shack,” Harry muttered aloud as he tried to shake off the morbid thoughts.

Walking out of his guest room, Harry felt better now that he was moving, even if it was just to breakfast. The halls of the Travis mansion were tasteful rather than flamboyant. It was completely different but in a way it reminded Harry of Potter Manor, or at least how it was before the Black Watch’s assault.

Harry walked into the mansion’s kitchen to see to house-elves dressed in French Maid costumes scurrying around making breakfast. The fact the really hurt Harry’s eyes was that one of the elves was male.

A woman’s laugh caused Harry to open his eyes from trying to blot out the image. Patricia Travis stood against one counter with a coffee mug in her hand laughing at Harry’s reaction to the elves. “You have my eldest son to thank for this little display. He gives them the costumes for every year for Halloween. Yesterday they were vampires.”

Harry snickered at the thought of Dobby running around dressed as a vampire. ‘Have to keep him away from here,’ he thought. Aloud he asked, “Your eldest son?”

“Bobby is what you call a Squib. He just completed the work for his doctorate in physics and is doing some kind of work on optics for the non-magical government,” Mrs. Travis explained. “He also inherited my father’s twisted sense of humour. Even before he found out he wasn’t magically gifted, he was using the elves to plan little traps for the rest of us.

“You are a father correct?” she asked.

“Three boys and two girls,” Harry confirmed.

“Well, as the father of daughters, you will enjoy this,” she said. Patricia Travis summoned the female elf and muttered some instructions. The elf returned in a moment with a large envelope marked, “Photos, Do Not Bend.”

“Here, take a look.”

Harry took the 11x10 photo and looked at it. It looked like it had been taken from on a broom thirty feet off the ground and pointed straight down. A girl’s figure that looked like Cassidy Travis was holding a boy’s hand and it looked as if they were leaning in for a kiss. A caption at the bottom in bright red ink read, “Big Brother is ALWAYS Watching!”

Harry started to laugh when he realized that the non-magical Travis had used a Muggle spy satellite to catch his sister on a date. ‘My family would love this guy,’ Harry thought. Handing the photo back, he said, “I don’t think Salem would have survived his time.”

Mrs. Travis laughed with Harry. “My father’s cousin is the principal at Salem. I think he’d agree with you on that. Bobby would pop in to visit him from MIT occasionally. He always came up with some kind of science based prank to leave behind in John’s office.”

Harry and Mrs. Travis settled into a nice conversation over breakfast. They were soon joined by Councillor Travis, Alastor, and Cassidy. The young Miss Travis was not pleased her mother had shown Harry her photo.

“Just keeping you humble, dear,” her unrepentant mother replied.

Charles Travis simply gave Harry a look of helpless exasperation that all fathers and husbands around the world would have recognized. Then he merely shrugged and helped himself to more waffles. Attempting to divert the impending mother-daughter conflict, he asked, “What time do you leave to meet your niece?”

Travis knew exactly when Harry’s Portkey was timed to go, but in the interest of male solidarity, he answered anyway. “10:30. With the time difference, I could wait until after lunch but I want to make sure its is safe before they are due to arrive.”

“Will you be back tonight?” Patricia Travis asked.

Harry let out a deep breath of air. “Merlin, I hope so. If they aren’t there today, I have to keep going back at noon each day. I would camp out there but I don’t want to get tracked and have them hit us there again.”

“Well, I will have the elves prepare a good dinner in either case,” the witch assured him. “And if you are able to bring your young ladies back, we will make it extra special.”

Harry thanked the Travis’s and excused himself after breakfast to start his journey. It was much too early, but he was anxious to get started. As a very experienced Unspeakable, Harry knew it was not good to get like this before a mission, but the family element and the conditions he had left Michele and Fleur under were eating at his nerves.

The first leg went smoothly enough. The Minneapolis village was a bit larger than Hogsmeade so the arrival of a single traveller failed to raise any curiosity. Harry casually strolled through several of the shops in a seemingly idle window shopping. Once he was sure he was not being followed, he abruptly turned down a small alley between a pub that advertised an authentic Irish environment and a cauldron maker. Checking for tracking charms and not finding any, Harry pulled his shrunken Blackbird from a pocket. A moment later, Harry was simply a fast moving speck in the distance.

--BD--

Harry landed in a small clearing not too far from where he and the girls had camped what seemed weeks ago. Pausing only to replace the broom into his pocket, Harry changed over into his wolf form.

The wolf sniffed the air, seeking the scents of Michele and Fleur. He caught the smells he could now identify as Sasquatch but they were faint, not very recent.

The wolf circled the area several times in a tightening spiral around the former campsite. After a carefully patrol even Moody would have agreed was paranoid enough, Harry felt it was safe enough to return to human form.

At the edge of the former campsite, Harry made the transformation from wolf to human. He drew both wands immediately. Keeping one hand for defence, Harry started casting protection, detection and warding charms around the clearing. The wards he keyed to himself, Fleur and Michele, although he kept the proximity charms keyed only to himself, just in case.

Harry conjured a small camp stool and a cup of hot tea to ward off the mountain air that was still slightly chilly even in the spring. Then he settled in to wait.

After two hours of waiting, Harry felt a trill as the outer proximity wards alerted him to movement. A wandering bear had set them off an hour before so Harry was cautious in his optimism. Then, before the first ward had even settled, the middle proximity ward screamed out its warning to Harry’s magical senses. Whatever it was, it was moving fast straight towards him and the wards were not doing anything to stop it. Harry stood up and drew both wands as he kicked the stool out of the clearing. If it was one of Cresswell’s demons, he would want plenty of room to fight. Harry started casting special protection charms that blocked demonic power to serve as a buffer zone and keep him out of physical reach for as long as they lasted.

The inner proximity alarms had just started to ring when a huge, black nightmare of a creature flashed out of the woods in a dead sprint straight at Harry. His brain barely had time to register as the creature leapt clear over the anti-demon wards to smash directly into Harry.

Harry felt like a rag doll as the creature rolled on top of Harry. The creatures jaws were only inches away from Harry’s neck as it made odd growling noises as it held Harry flat on his back.. Pulling his mind out of shock, Harry started to change into his wolf form in order to fight his way free.

Suddenly, the creature was gone and Harry drew in a breath of air as the crushing weight of the beast disappeared. It took a moment for him to realize that not all of the weight had disappeared.

Looking down his chest, Harry found himself looking into the big dark, almond shaped eyes framed by long thick black hair. “Oh, Gramps! I missed you!” the twelve year-old gushed as she hugged him.

--BD--

It took an hour for Harry to overcome his shock at Michele’s bizarre arrival and the results of the Sasquatch ritual. The laughing songs of Fawkes and the newly introduced Brighid added to Harry’s confusion as Michele explained how the new phoenix had bonded with her before the ceremony. Harry shot Fawkes a dirty look as his old friend made some snickering chirps from his nearby branch at Harry’s confusion.

Fleur arrived five minutes after Michele completely out of breath from trying to catch up with her overexcited charge. “I’m sorry, Harry,” a winded Fleur apologized. “I tried to keep her with me. Tell me she didn’t scare you too badly with that form of hers.”

“She scared the bloody piss out of me,” Harry growled back while mock glaring at the young witch.

“Literally, I think,” Michele giggled.

“The first morning I woke up with her fangs an inch form my nose. I screamed so loud I woke half the village.” Then she gestured at the two avian watchers. “And those two seem to think it is great fun to watch.”

“Really?” Harry asked as he looked over to Fawkes. “Well, I know who got Albus on his lemon drop habit and I just won’t give him any from the bag I have in my pocket then.” The horrified look on Fawkes’s face sent the three humans into around of laughter.

It was with a great sense of relief as the three humans and two phoenixes set off from the ground. As the five flew off in the direction of the Travis mansion, Harry was amazed at the ability of the magical birds to keep pace with the high speed brooms.

With his senses still alert for any signs of threat, Harry started to think about the next stage. They had succeeded in curing Michele, kind of. But now he had to return to Britain to face Cresswell. The news coming out of England could not be trusted. Harry had to get back to his family and stop the new Dark Lord from destroying all of Britain and unleashing the demons.

But why did he fear that getting Michele and Fleur to remain in the States would be his most hazardous task?