"I'm not sure how much more proof you'd like me to provide," Harry said, watching the uniformed men and women regard the rabbits hopping around their bridge with slack jaws and wide eyes. "My people have always been here, but we hid ourselves away long ago for our own protection."

"And now you return in our time of need," Captain Cooper, the commander of the SSV Marathon said sceptically. He was a middle aged man, with short cropped hair and a face that had aged a decade in a day. "You said your name was Harry, not Arthur?" His arms were crossed as he leaned back against the bar of the captain's station of his bridge.

"It's not Merlin, either," Harry said. "I'm not quite that old."

Every officer who could be spared was present, having been summoned when Harry made contact and began to tell his story, even as crew members continued their tasks at their stations. A few of those officers huffed, taking his words for pure jest, though the humour was thin.

"And you speak for this...Wizarding World?" another man said. A quick glance at his eyes revealed that he was the XO of the ship, and named Hornsbury.

"Effectively, yes," Harry said. "Not through election or inheritance, but by deed."

"How do we trust you?" Hornsbury pressed. "You can create rabbits, but-"

"It doesn't matter," the Captain interrupted. "He let us kill three Reapers. With more like him, we can get out of this barrel and start fighting back."

"And if it's a trap, sir?" Hornsbury said. "Reaper technology is beyond us. This could just be more of it." He gestured at the rabbits, some now being held by various technicians to avoid letting them investigate delicate terminals. "He comes out of nowhere and asks to be put in contact with what's left of High Command. I don't trust it."

"Do you think the Reapers need to rely on subterfuge to find your leaders?" Harry asked. "They already control Earth. What they do now is just...pest control."

Silence dominated the bridge. They had seen horrors in their fight over the skies of London, and even now they were forced to watch more, unable to leave their position without being destroyed in an instant. The looming figures of more capital Reapers could be seen picking their way through the city's destroyed skyline, even if they looked to be avoiding this area in particular.

"It's just…magic," Hornsbury said. "Witches and wizards."

"It is not so long ago that believing in aliens would have you labelled a loon," Harry remarked. It was control and patience honed by centuries that let him remain seated calmly in his conjured armchair while his people continued to fight in the city beyond.

Hornsbury grimaced, a reluctant nod drawn from him.

Cooper accepted it, glancing at a few key crew members. Whatever he was looking for, he found. "Then as the highest surviving military authority in the district, I am taking responsibility for accepting the aid of the Wizarding World as offered by -" he glanced to Harry.

"Headmaster."

"-Headmaster Harry Potter," Cooper said, hardly pausing. "We will aid one another to the fullest measure of our abilities for the duration of the Reaper Invasion, subject to review by the Systems Alliance Parliament."

"The International Confederation of Wizards will approve this cooperation," Harry said. They would have no choice in the matter.

A fresh energy seemed to sweep through the bridge crew, bolstered by allies unlooked for, and not even the brass bellow of a distant foe could dampen it.

"Then it is time to hunt," Cooper announced, and the fervour shifted, tinted by the thirst for revenge. "Helm-"

"Captain, I would not advise moving from this location," Harry said.

Cooper frowned at the interruption and the challenge on his own bridge, but only for a moment. "The spell that kept the Reapers from hitting us, you can't move it?"

"It is no simple spell, and it is not of my doing," Harry said. "Nor was it created intentionally. If you leave its protection, you will die."

"You want us to stand and watch London burn around us?" Cooper asked. "Watch our people burn around us?"

"I would not presume to give you orders," Harry said, tone clipped. He had no time for this. "But if you wish to throw your lives away, I ask that you do so after you have introduced me to your leaders."

Cooper held his tongue at first, brow furrowing as pragmatism warred with desire to aid. "There must be something you can do before you leave," he said. "Your people might be hidden away from all this, but-"

"You owe your current protection to my daughter's grave," Harry snapped, his temper unruly in a way it hadn't been for over a century. "Do not presume that my people are not suffering as yours are."

There was a moment of silence, and into it a comms station played a desperate plea for aid, staticky and pained. The crewman at it flinched, reaching quickly to mute it.

Harry closed his eyes for a scant moment, letting out a breath. Joining the fight here would change little for the world, but everything for those he would save.

Hermione was still right, even all these years later.

"I will have my people aid you, and we will turn what remains of Westminster into a fortress and a sanctuary," Harry said. "You may not be able to venture out, but survivors will be able to come to you."

"The city is crawling with husks," Cooper murmured, scowling in thought. "Only a handful would make it."

"If we left it to them to do so alone, you are correct," Harry said. He rose from his chair, vanishing it with a flick of his fingers, and let his wand fall into his hand. "They will not be left alone."

Silver light bloomed on the bridge of the Alliance ship, and the Muggles upon it stared in awe as a pair of stags sprang forth, kneeling before their summoner.

"Join me on the ship above the remains of the Ministry," Harry said, apparently speaking to the stags. "I have come to an accord with the Muggles."

The stags wasted no time, bounding away in opposite directions and passing through the walls of the ship without pause.

"What was that?" someone asked, breathless.

"A charm of hope," Harry said. "Impossible to impersonate and difficult to delay. The leaders of those I have brought to London will join us soon."

Questions were clear on the faces around him, but Harry's gaze was following the one Patronus he could still see, watching through the bridge viewport. It was a glimmer of silver as it approached what remained of Westminster Palace, disappearing into Elizabeth's Tower.

"Are dragons real?"

It was a woman in her thirties who had blurted the question, unable to hold her tongue any longer now that a lull in conversation had come, her stern face at odds with the tone of the question. A brush of Legilimency told Harry that she was as much hopeful for a touch of magic as she was desperate not to think of what might have become of her family.

"They are," Harry told her, offering the faintest of smiles. "I have fought seven and hand reared five, in my time."

She swallowed and nodded, regulation haircut bobbing with the motion. The terminal she sat at was lifeless for all that it was still lit up.

Cooper was speaking with Hornsbury now, the two men making plans for when civilians began to arrive, speaking of their marine detachment. Much of it would be unneeded given magic, but Harry left them to it, understanding the need for action in the face of the reality beyond their protection. The conversation was cut short, however, when smoke began to spill through the ceiling and the floor of the ship, almost simultaneously.

Harry watched the torrents of black and white smoke, ignoring the startlement of the crew as the smoke reformed into two figures.

"Uncle," Antigone said, a final puff of white smoke escaping her mouth as she spoke. For all the attention she gave the man to arrive with her, he may as well not have existed, but even as she waited for a response her appearance was shifting, hair darkening and features twisting. She looked like her great aunt.

"Headmaster," Melvin said. His face was red, burnt, but not by any flame, and it was clear he did not want to be there, glancing at the men and women surrounding them with disdain.

"The Ministry is gone, but its protections linger," Harry said, wasting no time. "I mean to make it a sanctuary for every survivor we can reach. Did we lose anyone?"

"None," Antigone said, "though Deidre was nearly taken by one of the biotic asari husks."

"Two," Melvin said. His mouth twisted as he cast a disdainful look around, but a glance from Harry saw him holding his tongue.

"Taken? You do not mean killed?" Harry asked.

"No. They tried to drag her away."

"That did not take them long," Harry said, more to himself than anything. "It has only been a few hours since I dealt with Grindelwald on the moon."

Nott blanched.

"If one Reaper knows something, the others soon will," Cooper said, joining the discussion. "Especially in system like this."

"How do you know this?" Harry asked. It had been less pressing at the time, but the Alliance soldiers had known the name Reaper before he had mentioned it, and the Italian ICW representative had gotten it from somewhere too.

Cooper grimaced. "Rumours. Fear mongering easily dismissed, we were told."

"Shepard has been telling us for years," Hornsbury said. "She told everyone she could, and no one listened."

One of the officers stirred. "Monstrous AI lurking in dark space, waiting to wipe all life from the galaxy? It sounds like a, a, a conspiracy vid, or a bad film-"

"Does that look like a fucking conspiracy vid to you?" someone else hissed, gesturing at the bridge windows.

Harry ignored the others as Cooper reprimanded his people. A sudden rage came over him, rage that the threat of this invasion had been known about and ignored. He grasped the feeling, strangled it, and buried it deeply. Now was not the time. "A reckoning for after," he said. "Captain, this is Antigone Lupin, my goddaughter and an accomplished duellist, and Melvin Nott, a criminal who has stepped forward. They are leading the men and women I have brought to defend London. They will work with you while I make contact with your leaders."

"How many did you bring?" Cooper asked, quick to move past the bubbling over of emotions and lapse in discipline. His gaze shifted from Harry to Nott and back in an instant.

"Not quite fifty."

Cooper blinked, and he wasn't the only one.

"What can fifty-"

"Helmsman," Cooper barked. There was silence, though it was different to before, hope leeching away. From the far distance, another bellow of a Reaper reached them. "But…I must agree. How do you intend to make a difference with fifty people?"

Again Harry strangled his frustration, as again he was delayed. "Antigone, how many Reapers did you deal with?"

"Four," she answered. "Three minor, one major."

"Nott?"

"Five," Nott said, though he grimaced. "All minor."

"Nine kills," Cooper said. "That's more than the Fleets managed…" He glanced at the burning remains of a Reaper the Marathon had brought down. "Ours included."

"You don't know what it means that we are here," Antigone said, before looking to her uncle, the man that had taught her to fly a broom. "That he is here. You can't know."

"You have seen what we can do, working together," Harry told the man, green eyes pinning him in place. "I understand your hesitance, but it has no place in this moment."

Cooper closed his eyes as he turned to grasp tight at the bar at the captain's station, taking a deep breath as he regathered himself. For all the truths and realities he had been bombarded with, he was still holding on. His shoulders straightened, and the steel in them spread to his crew.

"Our last contact with Admiral Anderson was over two hours ago," he said, turning to face them once more. "He was making for a secure holdout in the Rocky Mountains. Hornsbury will give you the rough location."

"Then I leave you in the hands of my goddaughter," Harry told him.

Things began to move quickly then, as Nott Apparated away to take word to his people and Antigone spoke with Cooper. One officer was drawing up firing solutions for every Reaper still in their range with a grim sort of glee, and another was arranging frequencies, preparing to broadcast a message. Harry was finally granted the knowledge he sought, and he was retrieving his mirror when a hand was placed on his shoulder.

"I will see you back at Hogwarts, uncle," Antigone told him, sandy hair returning in a wave, features softening to resemble her father.

"I will hold you to that, Andi," Harry said, placing his hand on her, but only for a moment. He gave it a pat, and then stepped away, raising his mirror above his head once again.

The crew of the SSV Marathon could only hold their rabbits and stare as the man - the wizard - who had changed their fates shattered into nothingness.

X

It did not take Harry long to find his quarry after he arrived in North America. It was difficult to miss them when their convoy was pursued by a horde of husks, slavering and screeching as they sprinted and shambled along a winding mountain road.

The sun was only just beginning to rise, but the peaks cast long shadows, and countless glints and dots of blue could be seen swarming in the darkness as they pursued the convoy, engines roaring as the dozen or so vehicles relied on headlights to light their way. Huge, insect-like creatures with the same glowing cybernetics as the husks on the ground would fly ahead to strafe the military convoy and offload more foes, slowing their prey so the horde might catch them, even as turrets spat fire into the sky and soldiers leaned out of their vehicles to mow down any husk that drew too close.

Further up the pass, a sheer mountain face cut by the road had been gouged at and destroyed, the resulting rubble blocking the way, and the flying creature responsible for it lay in wait. It was beyond the sight of the convoy, but not beyond Harry, floating in the sky as he watched it all unfold. His wand slipped into his hand.

One of the flying creatures swept by for another pass, but before it could do more than screech, a long tongue of red light flicked out, bisecting it. If there was any intelligence to it, perhaps it would have had time to realise it was dead before it detonated with a rasping buzz, a miniature sun lighting up the predawn. Before it reached its zenith, Harry summoned the creature laying in wait on the road ahead into it, and a second sun bloomed in turn. Blunt and graceless piercing curses originally crafted for giants punched through three more, and then the skies were clear and bright, even if only for a moment.

A gesture as darkness returned, and the horde of husks pursuing the convoy collapsed in a wave along the winding road, their connection to the Reapers that drove them cut. Before they could do more than start to clamber back to their feet, a visible wind swept through them, settling over them, and once it did so they began to dissolve and collapse. Where once there had been hundreds of shrieking husks, now there was only silence and ash. The convoy ground to a halt.

Harry cast a shield in precaution, and then a soft light spilled from his wand. Vehicle turrets spun towards him, but they did not fire, and a spotlight soon followed. He could hear hurried conversations and quick commands as he cast a charm to prevent the light from blinding him. At some unheard order, the turrets that topped most of the vehicles lowered, turning away to cover other approaches, and he took that as an invitation, descending from the sky to alight at the front of the convoy. The spotlight followed him, though no longer was it directed right at him, and he stopped as he touched the ground. He dismissed his light charm, and waited.

There was a soldier half hanging out of a damaged door on the first vehicle, a blocky six-wheeled thing, and they stared at him. Their head shifted as if they had heard something. They seemed to respond, but whatever they said was masked by their helmet, and they ended with a nod. A moment later, there was a hiss of air as one of the vehicles further back, one without a turret, opened its rear door. A moment later, bootsteps sounded, loud in the quiet of predawn.

Three men approached, and two of them were soldiers. The third was clearly also a fighter, but he wore no suit as the men guarding him did, what had once been a dress uniform of some kind bloodied and torn, a protective vest crammed on over it. He held a pistol ready, but it was pointed at the ground as an assessing gaze took in the robed and youthful appearance of the man who had just annihilated his pursuers in scant heartbeats.

"Admiral," Harry said, inspecting the dark skinned man in turn. He had been put through the wringer, but he was unfaltering still. "My name is Harry Potter. I have come to offer my aid."

Anderson nodded, glancing only briefly at the wand that was still held ready. "I'm Admiral David Anderson. Glad to have you," he said. His voice was stern, gravelly, and it was clear he had no time for nonsense. "Another wizard? We'll all need to stand together if we're going to have a chance."

Harry paused, but only for a moment. "Your Parliament has fallen, then? I did not expect MACUSA to have contacted you so quickly."

"It has," Anderson said, already turning back, "but they haven't. Join me in the transport and I'll explain on the way. We don't have time to waste."

Harry followed, the two escorting guards folding him into their protection without hesitation, even as activity picked up around them at an unseen signal. "If it wasn't MACUSA, someone joined you on their own?"

"We ran into each other back in Vancouver. Young man named Bernard Shipley stepped up as we were trying to flee the city. " Anderson said, raising his voice as engines picked up. "Watch your head." He ducked down to reenter the personnel carrier he had exited from. "If not for Shipley's abilities, this would have been the journey of a week as we tried to sneak our way here."

The vehicle interior had eight seats down each side, most of which were occupied, and not only by humans - an asari and two turians were amongst the men and women working or praying, but even beside them there was a man who stood out. Unlike the tighter synthetic clothing that was so common, he wore something that was neither that nor a robe but in between, and he looked up from his casting over a Muggle weapon as he heard his name.

"Admiral, I think I can - oh." His voice, at first enthused, took on a tone of nearly fearful awe. "Oh, shit. You're Harry Potter." He was skinny and bespectacled, with swarthy skin and a patchy beard.

Anderson, in the middle of retaking his seat, gave Harry a sharp look, assessing him with new eyes. The two soldiers who had escorted him were closing the ramp from the outside, and a moment later the vehicle began to move.

"I am," Harry said, taking a seat of his own, an asari to his right and a human to his left, across from Anderson and Shipley. Even shedding the better part of two centuries, it seemed there was no escaping recognition.

"You're not another lone volunteer, are you," Anderson asked. "From what Shipley told me of your Statute, I thought that might be all we would get."

Shipley gave an involuntary giggle, but managed to clamp his mouth shut, shaking his head in mute response. The work being done by the others in the compartment slowed as they began to pay closer attention.

"No," Harry said. "I am not. I have decided that the Wizarding World will stand with the Muggle, and I have already taken steps to ensure it is so."

"I see," Anderson said, glancing between Shipley, still staring in awe, and Harry, a younger man who didn't seem to be out of his teens. "If we can work together in truth, use magical abilities with our technology…"

"We each have our strengths," Harry said. "I have had some thoughts regarding portkeys and bombs."

"That would bypass their shields entirely," Shipley said, unable to hide his excitement. "I've been trying to figure out the best way to eliminate the need for heat sinks entirely, but that - that was way too small."

"Portkeys?" Anderson questioned.

"Another type of teleportation," Shipley explained distractedly. "An object is spelled to transport anything touching it to another place."

"They can't possibly defend against that," a new voice burst in. It was one of the turians, their mandibles twitching. "No one could - unless - do you know how your abilities are impacted by the mass effect?"

"They are not," Harry said. There had been quite the furor when Charon had been revealed for what it was, and the displeasure of the centaurs was the least of it.

The two turians shared a look of what seemed to be glee, talons rapidly dancing across their glowing computer tools.

"If Reapers start dying like that, there will be reprisals," Anderson said, staring at his hands as he thought. "We will need to make a massive coordinated strike to reduce casualties. Worldwide, even."

"Are we not beyond worrying over reprisals?" another man asked. He was wearing a suit, not a uniform. "We all saw what they did to Vancouver."

"The Reapers have hardly begun their invasion," Anderson said, grim surety colouring his voice. "If they realise we can fight back, they'll skip the harvest and go straight to mass genocide. So long as we keep them in the dark, we have time. If we don't - you heard what they were doing to Adelaide before the last cables were cut."

No one seemed to want to speak after that, and there was only the rumbling of the vehicle as it twisted and turned its way along the road higher into the mountains.

Soon, the blind journey began to wear on Harry's patience, and his stomach. He was not meant to be a passenger. "Where are we going? I was only told of a concealed base."

"By who?" Anderson asked. "How did you find us, anyway?"

"One Captain Cooper, of the SSV Marathon," Harry said.

"He's still alive?" Anderson asked. "How on earth?"

Harry would not label the destruction of the British Ministry luck, even if that was what had seen the ship survive. "A magical site in London was destroyed, but its defences survived in a way that left the Reapers unable to interact with anything within their reach."

Anderson shook his head, a small piece of good news in a tide of bad buoying him. "A year ago, I was able to begin construction on a number of bases across the planet, off the books. They're stocked with what Hackett and I could squirrel away, and this one has a QEC."

"Quantum Entanglement Communicator," Shipley said, before Harry could do more than frown in confusion. "Paired messaging, like the two way mirrors that were popular when international owls were first banned." He looked up, and noticed the considering look Harry was giving him. He flushed. "I graduated from Salem three years ago, and I'm - I was taking courses so I could attend a No-Maj university."

Harry didn't press him, for all he was reminded of another studious muggleborn. "How far are we from this base?" Harry asked.

Anderson looked to a woman seated near the driver's cab. Like him, she was in a ragged dress uniform and wearing a metal vest. "An hour, maybe less," she said.

"Too long," Harry said with a shake of his head. Sitting in a vehicle for an hour while the world was burning was not something he was prepared to do. "Describe the entrance to me."

"Is this -?" Anderson asked of Shipley.

"Yes," Shipley said, his eyes lighting up. "I couldn't manage it, but Harry Potter definitely can."

Anderson described the hideout to him, speaking of the dead end road and the disguised entrance set into a cliff face of grey rock. It was more than enough for Harry to fix the destination in his mind.

"Once your people are put to work, I will take you to the ICW headquarters in Switzerland and ensure that any Ministries who have yet to take action do so," Harry said. "We will need them all for this."

"Usually I'd send Shepard on a job like this," Anderson said, "but I suppose it's been long enough since I've cracked political heads."

No more time was wasted, and Harry vanished from his seat in the troop carrier, reappearing in the dawn light a short way east. His surrounds were as he had intended, and a revealing charm proved he was in the right place. A number of stones were summoned, more spells cast, and then he disappeared back to the twilight he had come from, just above the convoy. The stones were sent on their way, attached to each vehicle, and with one final jump he was back in the vehicle, a bare minute later.

Somehow a great urgency had seized the cabin in his brief absence, and he held back his request for them to halt.

Anderson turned to Harry as he returned a physical communicator to its cradle, leaving it to the man beside him to wrestle the device away. "Switzerland will have to wait," he said, worry clashing with opportunity. "I've just gotten word that a member of Parliament was on Earth when the attack began."

"Are you not the leader of Alliance forces, even with their survival?" Harry asked.

"I may be the highest ranked serviceman on Earth," Anderson said, "but I'm no Alliance leader. If Parliament is gone, that job falls to Councilor Udina, and that's bad news."

Harry's nose wrinkled at the stench of politics. "You need to save this member to avoid that."

"I do, but that's a secondary concern. The Reapers know she's here, and they sent word that they would agree to a ceasefire if she came in to negotiate Earth's surrender."

"Lies," Harry said.

"Worse," Anderson said. "The Reapers have the ability to indoctrinate anyone who spends too long near them, to turn them into puppets. We need to get her out before that can happen."

"Where is she?" Harry asked.

"Taipei, but we don't where exactly."

"Very well," Harry said. "Stop the convoy."

The order was given, and the moment they did, Harry triggered the portkeys he had attached to each vehicle. When the unpleasant process was over, many were groaning, and the asari was vomiting on the floor.

"Young Bernard," Harry said, vanishing the sick without looking. "You are to contact the MACUSA. Tell them my intent, and that they will join us." His tone left no room for any other outcome.

"Yes Mr Potter," Bernard was quick to agree.

"Admiral, you know this woman?" Harry asked.

"We've met, but I can't leave before I open the base and set things in motion," Anderson said. He was already pulling a lever that saw the rear ramp opening to the cool morning air.

"I know her," the man in the suit said, shrugging off his seat straps. "What do you need? A picture?"

"You will need to come with me," Harry said, as others in the vehicle began to hurry clear of it.

The man paled but nodded, hand smoothing his sleeve subconsciously. He was past middle age, but the Muggles were living longer and longer these days; he could be anywhere from fifty to seventy.

"I will keep you safe," Harry promised him. "Now take this string."

A white wrinkled hand took the coloured string Harry offered him, and the wizard gave one last nod to Anderson and Shipley. A moment later they were gone, on their way to Old Taiwan.

X x X

There was something wrong with the silence of the city that was Old Taiwan. The city-island was a mess, burning fires providing the only light against the oncoming dusk, and half slagged skyscrapers leaned dangerously - but there was an absence. There were no gunfights, no fraught rescues, no last stands. The island was holding its breath, trying desperately to avoid doing anything that would draw the attention of the dozen Reapers that hung in the evening sky above it, dark hulls lit only by the dull red glow of their weapons as they hovered, waiting.

On a shattered lower floor of one of those half slagged skyscrapers, Harry watched as a soldier and a police officer guided a group of families down a pitted and rubble-strewn street, none of them making so much as a sound, all of them pale as sheets. The source of their fear was a bare stone's throw away, a pack of humanoid husks milling around a pair that were much larger, but seemingly paying no attention to the prey that was within their reach. The corpses at their feet and occupied impalement spikes beside them spoke to what they had done to the last civilians to run afoul of them, but for now, they were still.

There was a retching sound as the man with him dry heaved, seeing the same atrocity. He spat, trying to clear bile from his throat.

Harry conjured a glass of water for him, flavouring it with honey, but his eyes did not leave the spikes. Two of them held children, their skin greying as blue light started to glimmer in their wounds.

"Thank you," the man said, swilling and spitting. He looked away from the sight below, taking in the floor they stood on. It had once been a cubicle farm, but many had been thrown back and strewn about by whatever explosion had taken out the windows. "I - my name is William, William Pressly. I'm a Parliament Aide, I was supposed to observe a trial today…" he trailed off, glancing back down at the ravaged street. He shuddered, and drained the glass.

"You've not seen war before," Harry said. It seemed that this was the first moment in some time that the man hadn't been in immediate danger, and it was all catching up with him.

"No," William said, holding back another shudder. "A police action or two, and the aftermath of Eden Prime, but nothing like this." He glanced at Harry. "Have you?"

"Several."

"Yes, of course," William said, swallowing. "How- do all wizards age as slowly as you?"

"I am two hundred and six years old," Harry said, answering the question he had meant to ask, "and no. My situation is somewhat unique."

Grey brows made to rise, but William controlled his expression. "I see." He let out a fortifying breath, and set the glass down on the scorched carpet for lack of anything better to do with it. "Thank you. I am ready."

"I will keep you safe," Harry told the man. "Where is this MP?"

"She was in a bunker in Taipei, but our information was already half an hour old when we received it," William said. "Even if her security team tried to move her immediately, getting through the chaos would not be easy. Representative Park was trying to override them when the message was cut."

Harry frowned, tapping a finger on his wand as he thought. There was something off about that. The families below had reached their goal, a grate set into the sidewalk, and had it open in a moment. They disappeared quickly into the tunnels below, but not before Harry sent a few spells their way for protection.

"But - hmm," William said, frowning in turn. "If the Reapers wanted her, why are they making her come to them? They could simply land on her location."

"Ah," Harry said, as he realised. The stillness of the city, the luck of receiving the ferried message despite the Reapers cutting all avenues of communication, the Reapers holding position in the sky rather than lurking in the city. "She is bait."

"For what?" William asked. "They have complete military superiority, and we aren't in any position to do more than prepare to resist."

"For something they do not understand," Harry said. In a city where all fighting had stopped, any unusual resistance would be noticed swiftly, without any chance of getting lost in the noise.

"For you?" William asked, unable to hide the doubt in his voice.

Harry shrugged, still revelling in the ease with which his shoulders moved. "People fear the unknown," he said, "and these Reapers know nothing of magic. The gambit costs them nothing to try." Perhaps he was seeing a trap where there was none, but his instincts had rarely led him wrong, and he would not bet that he had slain the husks hunting Admiral Anderson before they could get some kind of message out.

"But we will still retrieve her?" William pressed.

"We will," Harry said. "There are other magicals making their presence known around the world." Had he been the only wizard fighting back, he perhaps would have agreed that the trap was meant for him, but he was not. Though the likes of Tepes and the Yaga sisters would be too destructive to attempt to capture, there were other witches and wizards out there who would inevitably draw the foe's eye. In hunting for them, the Reapers may have hoped to catch a fox in their trap, but they would find themselves holding something rather larger by the tail. "What is her name?"

"Yolanda Park," William said. "She is one of the Spacer representatives." In the distance, there was a great crash, some building giving up under the damage it had taken. "Maybe the only representative, now." He shook himself.

"Are you familiar with Miss Park?"

"We worked together. I helped assist her transition team," William said. "Do you have some magic to find someone with their name?"

"No," Harry said. Would that he could locate a stranger with a spin of his wand. They would have to make do the old fashioned way. "But when we contact her, you will need to vouch for us."

William swallowed, but something about having a clear purpose for being in the decimated city settled him. "I can do that."

Combing the entire city for a single group would be a fool's errand, and that was without the risk of being seen by the foe. He would not wager his Disillusionment charm against whatever sensors the Reapers possessed if he were to join them in the sky in the searching, either.

But then, he would not have to.

"Accio," Harry said, turning the wand movement into a sweeping gesture as he took in the entire street, his magic reaching out with a feather-light touch.

It was a simple charm, even if what he asked of it was not. Most would say that it should not work in such a way at all.

But then, he was not a simple wizard.

Harry felt the charm respond, finding that which he sought, and not only the once. He focused on the closest of them, and let his spell latch on. Instead of letting it follow its course, however, he guided it carefully, unwilling to have his prize soaring through the sky where it might be noticed. It took longer, and he relied on the protections built into the charm, but within the minute, the device was flitting through the street below them and up to where they stood concealed.

"What is - that can't be from this century," William said, eyeing the thing that his companion now held.

It had the appearance of a slim backpack, and was meant to be worn like one, all smooth steel lines and close fitting components that had been popular decades ago. The claw marks and blood on it, however, were not standard issue.

"With the satellites and towers destroyed, I suspect the Muggle militaries turned to what still worked," Harry said. A flick of his wand saw the rents sewn together and the blood cleaned. "Do you know how to use it?"

"If I can wrangle the omni-tool updates they forever push, I - but don't tell me you mean to hail her on the open air," William said. "That would be ill advised, to say the least. The Reapers will find us immediately."

"If we wish to prevent her from falling into their grasp, we must," Harry said. Magic could serve to make the contact safer, but such things could be obvious, and he did not want to see how the Reapers would react if they knew a wizard was present and seeking their bait, let alone what they might do if they knew it was the one who had thwarted them on the Moon. The response on Luna had been rather vehement.

William was ready to argue, but something about the expectant expression on Harry's face convinced him otherwise. He gave a jerky nod, and accepted that communications pack from him.

It did not take long for him to figure out how to use it. A press on the shoulder saw a flat piece come free that was contoured on the inside, and he slipped it over one ear. Another saw a piece of the back retract to reveal a screen, and a menu to navigate. Harry kept his eye on their surrounds as he worked, watching the enemies below. If the Reapers abandoned their play at a ceasefire, the husks would stir. The small impaled bodies continued to wither, growing greyer. His ire rose, and it was harder than it had been a day ago to deny the urge to do something.

"There," William said. "It's done." He rubbed at this thinning grey hair, sweating as he held the earpiece out to Harry. The knowledge that they were about to draw the Reapers' eye was weighing on him.

"Your familiarity with Miss Park is an advantage we should make the best of," Harry said, declining to take it. "Call her when you are ready." He would not wager on any hostile listeners not recognising his voice, either, after his conversation with Grindelwald.

"I - yes, very well," William said. He put the earpiece back in, fiddling with it, ensuring that it sat correctly, though it clearly was. He took a breath, paused for a final moment, and pressed a button on the screen. "Doctor Yolanda Park and retinue. If you are receiving, please respond."

Long moments stretched out, but there was only the distant roar of fire.

"Yolanda Park. Please respond."

Below, one of the spikes collapsed, the impaled corpse coming down with it, only for it to twitch and rise a husk. What was once a child staggered as it found its feet, empty glowing eyes looking around. Harry noted it distantly, another tally in the debt the Reapers owed him.

William shifted, pained, and kept his gaze fixed on the device rather than look directly at the sight below. "Doctor Park - did you find a chance to read the welcoming gift I gave you when you assumed your office?"

Still silence. But then -

Static as a voice came through the speakers, male and rough. "This channel is not secure."

"This is priority one. Are you with Doctor Park?" William asked, new life breathed into him.

There was a pause. "State your message."

"The gift, Doctor," William said, staring intently at the device as if he could pry answers from it by force of will.

Another, longer pause, but then a woman's voice spoke. "I did."

"Nobody means to craft a horse if you continue," William said, and then he held his breath.

The words meant nothing to Harry, but he could recognise a context dependent message when he heard it. He found himself holding his breath as well.

There was a harsh exhale. "...then Nobody should be denied materials," the reply came, after a too long delay.

"No!" William said, before throttling his sudden panic. "Yes, but no. Can you share your location?"

There was a tinny and half heard disagreement in the background. "I am onl-" harsh static cut in "-blocks from the club I told you my sister joi-"

"We will meet you there," William said, urgent. "We will meet you at that location, Yolanda." He waited, but there was no response. "Yolanda?"

The radio was lifeless.

"You understood her meaning?" Harry asked.

William nodded, swallowing. "She means one of the parks towards the interior that was kept wild. Her sister joined an archery club there."

Harry made to question him further, but before he could he felt a shift. Something had changed, and he looked out and up. Dusk had passed and night had come in truth, the sky above dark save for the stars, but it was not so dark that he couldn't make out the Reaper that was rapidly drawing nearer. Their conversation had been noted, even if they couldn't know who it was they hunted.

Even so, it would not do to dally, and so Harry put a hand on William's shoulder and they disappeared with a dull snap.

X

The park was a mix of curated greens and thick woodland. Without power to supply floodlights, even the pleasant lawns seemed foreboding under the evening fog, and the woods had a hint of the Forbidden Forest about them, lent by the scent of blood and distant violence. Here and there were splashes of blood or dropped possessions, evidence of those who had hoped to find safety in the park, but there was no sign of their corpses, nor of the monsters that had slain them. The grey tide had come and gone, and now it seemed that Harry and William were the only living beings within the green acreage.

William was pacing, again having lost the battle to remain still. They stood on the edge of a copse of trees, waiting for the Alliance Representative, and every few moments he would peer out from their cover at the moonlit meadow that lay beyond. Archery butts stretched across one end of it, and the ground was littered with abandoned bows and archery equipment. The lack of knowledge on Park's whereabouts and how far she had to come to reach them seemed to pierce whatever patience he could usually call upon.

"She must be close," the bureaucrat muttered, as much to convince himself as anything. "And this must be the place."

Harry did not respond, seated on a root, ankles crossed. Even with his youth and all the hormones that came with it restored to him, waiting in the shadow of danger for an uncertain outcome was something he was well used to. He used the time wisely, casting charms to alert him of any approach and seeding the woods with transfigured animals. Now and then he glanced at a twisted curl of glass that hung by his shoulder, slowly rotating around on itself. So long as it continued to do so, an old charm turned to new purpose, there was no need to act.

Minutes crawled by, and a Reaper drifted across the moon, silhouetted by it. To the south, a fire grew, visible only by the red glow it cast into the night sky. Though it was distant, the roar of it was still audible, and it grew, drowning out the stars above as it did.

Hours later, or perhaps only minutes, Harry stirred. One of his alert charms had been tripped.

"What is it?" William asked, keenly sensitive to any movement. "Are they coming?"

A frown crossed Harry's face as his charm was tripped again, and then again and again. "Someone is," he said. "Many someones."

"You don't think - husks?"

A glance up at the sky showed that the Reapers still hung in place, hardly drifting. Surely if they had tired of their ploy, they would descend to continue the slaughter rather than only send in their husks.

"Perhaps," Harry said. "We will soon know."

Tense minutes later, an eagle owl alighted on a nearby branch and hooted twice. Harry eased, though his hold on his wand remained firm. William ceased his pacing and waited, expectant.

"They are not husks," Harry said. "And unless I miss my guess…" he peered out over the meadow, towards the path that led onto it, and William followed his gaze.

From the shadows of the trees that sheltered the path, a figure emerged. They wore dark armour and carried a compact gun of some kind, and they swept the meadow. Harry let the tip of his wand glow, drawing their eye, and then he pulsed it twice, drawing their attention. The figure's head cocked, as if speaking, and a moment later six more emerged from the shadows. Five were armed and armoured in the Muggle fashion, and in their middle was a young woman, barely forty, who wore a tattered and damaged suit. That was not all of them, however.

Behind them were dozens of people, all of them battered and scorched, some bleeding, crowding together as if for protection. Families with the luck to remain together clutched at one another, but there were more walking wounded who staggered on, shellshocked and unknowing. Here and there were some with weapons, a police officer with a service pistol and a torn sleeve wrapped around their head to stem the bleeding, or a civilian who had taken up a dropped weapon, but it was clear that there was no plan, only a desperate hope that the group they followed could lead them to safety.

The Representative's escort led the way towards them, not across the meadow but skirting its edges, a likely futile show of wariness of the open sky. The frightened herd followed, trying to stick to the shadow of the trees but failing as they clumped and clustered. Harry glanced at the slowly twisting strip of glass by his shoulder, but there was no change.

When the lead guard reached them, their weapon was closer to being pointed at them than was perhaps polite. "Identify yourself," she demanded, face hidden by a dark visor.

"William Pressly, Parliament Aide," he said, before rattling off a sequence of letters and numbers. The civilians following cared little for the caution, spilling around them to get to the transient safety of the woods.

The guard reached for their arm, only to falter. Whatever processes their training demanded they follow were unavailable, leaving them unsure.

"It's him," said the woman that had brought them all there. She had a strange accent, but more than that Harry could not say given the way her guards were keeping their bodies between her and them.

"Ma'am, we don't-"

The worries of her protective detail were ignored as she stepped around them, much to their displeasure. "Mr Pressly. I wasn't aware you had been transferred." Despite her beaten appearance, her spine was straight and stiff, and brown eyes quickly took in the two men who had been waiting for them. Her hair was tied in a severe ponytail close to the back of her neck.

"Doctor Park," William said. "I wasn't. I was due to observe Shepard's trial in Vancouver, but then…"

Park nodded. "The Reapers aren't bothering to guard the Pacific then?" She shook her head. "No, not important - what did you mean by their plan to make a Trojan Horse out of me?"

"Are you aware of Reaper indoctrination?" William asked.

"No," Park said slowly. "You can't think I would let them turn me." There was a flash of doubt in her eyes, second guessing her decision to abandon whatever deal had led to the ceasefire.

"You would not have a choice," William said, tone grim. "They have ways of brainwashing any who interact with their technology. If you go to them, you will be their puppet."

"What? That's absurd," she said, frowning now as she turned to Harry. "And who are you? How did you get here? Where are your escorts?" At her back, her guards seemed to be a moment from pulling her behind them and doing something foolish.

Harry flicked his wand, and a gun that was pointing at his chest was suddenly a pink feather boa. "My name is Harry Potter. I am a wizard."

The man whose weapon had been transfigured dumbly at it for a moment, and Park reached out to touch it.

She blinked at the softness of the offensively pink item. "What."

"The Reapers have the ability to influence the mind," Harry told her. Anderson had seemed more aware of it, but he had encountered the ability first hand. "You would go to them intending to make a deal, but they would turn you into a puppet to lessen Earth's resistance, or worse, set you loose to lead it." Another flick of his wand, and the boa was a gun again.

Park blinked again. "I, what?"

"Arcturus is gone," William said. "You're the last representative left."

She shook her head, as if the news was more unbelievable than what she had just seen. "I'm a prospector's daughter, not the leader of the Alliance. I was barely elected." She looked out over the park, taking in the abandoned archery gear, before her gaze was drawn by the growing blaze to the south.

Harry almost felt nostalgic as he watched the young woman grapple with the knowledge. "If not you, then who?" he asked.

"Udina," William said helpfully.

The name cut through the building denial, the hint of a scowl starting at her eyes. "There must be someone else. Did Admiral Hackett survive? Anderson?"

"They did, but you know why it can't be them, Yolanda," William said.

The apparent leader of the Systems Alliance pressed her lips together, leaving them a thin white line as she grappled with what she had been told. Around them, the guards listened and watched as those who had followed in hopes of safety sat in heaps, snatching what rest they could. Yolanda's gaze lingered on a man holding a pair of children to his sides.

"A wizard?" she asked at length.

"There is a world of magic, just out of sight," Harry told her. "For centuries we hid, but no longer. There will be a time to share more, but it is not here and now."

"And you can magic us away from here?" she asked. "There's little point in naming me leader if we can't get off the island."

"I can," Harry said.

"All of us?" Yolanda pressed. "The ceasefire will end in less than an hour. I can't leave them here to be - without protection." One of her guards shifted, as if holding back a comment.

"All of you," Harry promised.

With a clenched fist and a visible shiver, Yolanda pushed the barrage of revelations aside and focused on the present. "Then - yes. I'm ready."

"We will travel by portkey - teleportation - to Admiral Anderson," Harry told her, including the guards in his explanation. "The people must be warned; it is not a pleasant experience and can lead to complications, but we have little choice. If anyone is preg-"

The sudden sound of breaking glass interrupted him, and his gaze snapped to the Mobius strip that lingered by his shoulder. It still turned, but now there was a crack running along its middle, and as he watched more began to spread from it. He looked up. The Reaper that had been silhouetted by the moon was growing larger. Closer.

A distant screech rent the air, and a moment later came the barking of an owl. The husks were on the move, and fear swept through the civilians anew. The ceasefire was over.

One of the guards was already issuing orders. "We need to move, now. There's a sewer entrance-"

He was interrupted by a torrent of coloured handkerchiefs that erupted from the sleeves of Harry's robes. They snaked through the crowd, twisting and twining around wrists and waists as more and more of the rope poured forth. Harry conducted their movement with wand and hand, keen eyes marking each and every person to be rescued.

"Deep breath!" he commanded, and such was his tone that none hesitated. The ropes of handkerchiefs came to an end, and he tied them together, tapping his wand to it with a whispered Portus.

Less than a heartbeat later, the woods and meadow were empty - save for one. All others had been whisked away, leaving Harry to stare up at the rapidly approaching Reaper alone. They were safe in the Rocky Mountains now, at Anderson's hideout, where they could be helped and offer help in turn, but Harry was not satisfied. There were millions more on the island without hope of escape, and he would not leave them to be slaughtered or harvested. He knew he could not save everyone - but he could put a fear into the metal monsters above, and that would give the people a fighting chance.

Harry took a step into the air, the tip of his wand glowing a cherry red, and the scent of Fiendfyre teased at the air. The Reapers had burned cities, and he had returned the favour, but they had not learned.

It would seem that he needed to repeat the lesson.