Harry Potter and the Mystic Force

By Michael Weyer

Harry Potter owned by JK Rowling. Power Rangers franchise by Saban. I'm poor, don't sue me.

I can't say where this came from exactly but it seemed a fun idea to play with. I guess I'm a sucker for good versions of the classic "Harry is framed and everyone turns on him" story and this grew out of that. Be warned beforehand that Harry will NOT become an actual Power Ranger. As you can tell, this is mid-way through "Order of the Phoenix." For the PRMF fans, this falls just before Daggeron's arrival into things on the show. All comments welcomed.


Dark Beginning


Pain was what filled him now, from his head to his back to his legs. From small aches to burns and it wasn't getting better. Gritting his teeth just reminded him of it but it was the best he could do to keep on going. He had to keep going, it was his only chance.

He heard footsteps and pushed himself off the wall, trying to keep strength within his legs. He had no idea really where he was, he'd lost track of the wandering hallways, the pain blocking out directions and understanding. All that was left was the primal urge to run, to hide, to find a place of safety. Not that such a place was readily available.

The irony was not lost on one Harry Potter. For years, Hogwarts had been a place of safety for him, of sanctuary, a place he found a better home than Privet Drive. But now, that home was a trap, a fortress keeping him inside and in danger.

He adjusted his glasses, cursing under his breath as he saw one lens cracked in half and almost shattered. It was hurting his overall vision and thus his progress through the halls of Hogwarts. He did his best to ignore it and get back to running. His chest burned with the breaths he was taking but he had to keep going.

As he heard the voices and he did his best to move on, his mind was whirling, able only to focus on the images of the last half hour. The thirty minutes that had marred his life forever.


In retrospect, the fact it was overcast when the predictions had been for sunny and clear really should have been a warning sign. But, as so often, Harry missed what was right in front of him and was paying for it.

His routine had been what it usually was for this time of day. After completing his regular classes and studies, he'd make his way down the halls to the private room for training the students. He was pleased at how well things were going as everyone was showing real progress with the spells and how to protect themselves. It was certainly better than with that fool Umbridge.

Harry had heard a lot of talk from his uncle about the idiocies of politicians but had never understood it until now. It baffled Harry that Fudge could be so obsessed with his public image and his position that he refused to even consider Voldemort's return. That was bad enough but putting Umbridge in to spread his word just made it all the easier for Voldemort to gain power. There were times, not often but times, where Harry wondered if this world of wizards deserved to be saved.

He brushed those thoughts aside. Upset at his leaders was one thing, agreeing with the man who killed his parents quite another. He had busy work ahead and it was time he got started with it. He came to the hidden doorway, glancing around to see if anyone was watching him. Harry made the familiar incantation and watched it slowly slide open. He stepped in…

And walked straight into a very hard fist.

Harry stumbled back, shocked less by the pain in his jaw and more the unexpectedness of it. He stumbled and felt himself fall to the floor, automatically reaching to rub his chin. He felt a trickle of blood by his lip and shook his head to try and clear it. He glanced up and his eyes widened as he saw his attacker. "Ron?!"

Ron Weasley stood before Harry, his eyes are red as his hair. His best friend's face was twisted into a rage Harry had never seen before. "You bastard," he spat down.

"Ron, what-----" Harry barely had time to avoid the kick aimed at his ribs. He rolled around, wondering what in the hell was going on. He saw Hermione coming toward him and frowned. "Hermione, what's gotten into Ron?"

There was a blur and then another shot of pain across the left side of his face. It took Harry a moment to process that Hermione Granger had indeed just slapped him. The fact of the blow pained him more than the shot himself as she too appeared more enraged than he'd ever seen her before, her eyes almost tearful. "How could you?" she whispered. "How?"

"How…what?" Harry got to his feet, wincing and rubbing his face. He saw more of the students piling out of the room, the majority of them with the same looks of anger as on the faces of Hermione and Ron. The exceptions were Neville Longbottom, who looked stunned but uncertain, and Luna Lovegood, who appeared utterly calm.

"All that talk," Ron hissed. "All that…rot about You Know Who Coming Back and you're the one we should have been worried about!"

"Ron, what are you talking about?" Harry demanded as he got to his feet. He saw that several of the students had their wands out and pointed at him, their expressions showing they were ready to use them. That convinced him not to go for his own wand, not that he'd use it on his own friends.

He heard footsteps and whirled to see several teachers coming toward him, led by Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall and Servus Snape. Snape appeared actually concerned but Minerva was wearing a hard expression on her face. Dolores Umbridge had a smile like the cat who ate the canary which worried Harry immensely. "Professor," he spoke up. "I don't know what is…"


The cold hard voice struck Harry like a thunderclap. He could never remember Dumbledore raising his voice to him but now the old man was bristling with actual anger, a far cry from the kindly professor Harry knew. More than anything, that was hitting Harry, letting him know the situation was a lot more severe than he imagined.

"Albus," Snape said carefully. "Perhaps we should take this to your office."

Dumbledore ignored him as he fixed Harry with a gaze colder than he thought the Headmaster capable of, forcing Harry to step back. "Mr. Potter," he spoke flatly. "To say I am disappointed is a massive understatement."

"Professor," Harry stammered. "What is going on?"

"The Aurors should be here soon," Minerva said flatly.

"Aurors?" Harry started. "For what?"

"To take your sorry ass to Azkaban, I hope," Ron snapped.

"Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?" Harry snapped.

"Maybe I can explain," came the last voice Harry thought he'd hear. He was frozen for a moment before turning his head to the young man who stepped around Dumbledore. The man crossed his arms as he raised an eyebrow. "I bet you never expected to see me again, did you, Potter?"

Harry was too frozen with shock to nod in reply. If he could have, he would have given a sign to indicate that, yes, he had never expected to see Cedric Diggory alive again.

He appeared the same as when Harry last saw him, if a bit thinner, his clothes dirty as if from long-time wear. It took a moment to realize that it was the same clothes Cedric had been wearing when he was killed that night in the graveyard when Voldemort returned. Cedric's expression was hard as he gazed at the stunned Harry.

It took Harry a few moments to work his jaw and force wetness back into his throat enough to croak "How?"

"Oh, it wasn't easy," Cedric muttered as he rubbed his shoulder. "Not after what you did to me."

"I…did?" Harry said.

"It's time to drop the act, Potter," Umbridge declared. "Cedric's told us everything. How you ambushed him after you were teleported to the graveyard after the third task of the Triwizard Tournament. How you and some Deatheater accomplices used your magics to create a fake corpse to fool everyone and return with it so you could spread your tales of You Know Who returning."

Harry simply stared, his mind unable to accept that. "I'm…what?" He let out a short laugh of disbelief. "And you believe that? You believe this…" He pointed to Diggory. "Is Cedric? He died, I saw it!"

"We did not believe it either," Dumbledore stated in a flat voice. "But we have tested him carefully and he is indeed Cedric." His eyes narrowed. "Which means we must believe in what he says."

"What he…" Harry shook his head. "I don't believe this…"

"I don't believe you!" Hermione cried out. She stormed forward, her eyes tearful with anger. "After all we've done, all we've trusted you, you used us! You used our fear of You Know Who to forge this army of yours to help your goals!"

"My goals?" Harry said, jarred by her venom. "Hermione, you know me…"

"We thought we did," she hissed. "But the Harry we knew would never have killed Hagrid."

His heart stopped and his head went light. He swayed as he swallowed. "Hagrid…Hagrid is dead?"

Ron snorted. "Oh, like you don't know. Cedric went to him first once he escaped and you killed him, trying to keep him quiet."

"You would have killed me too," Cedric said. "If I hadn't run."

A nightmare. I'm having a horrible, horrible nightmare. I need to wake up, I need to wake up, I need to wake up. Harry rubbed his temples. "I didn't…I didn't…"

"Give me your wand, Potter," Dumbledore said flatly, extending his hand. "Go along quietly and we shall make this as simple as possible."

Harry stared at his hand, then at his face, seeing nothing of the kind professor he knew there. He looked around and in the faces of his friends he saw only anger and hatred. Only Neville seemed softer, the young man giving a slow shake of the head. Whether it was to tell Harry he didn't believe this or that Harry should not fight, he wasn't sure.

What he was sure of was that if he did this, if he just surrendered, there was a very good chance he'd never see the outside of Azkaban again. He knew Sirius would believe him but he wasn't sure how much help he could be. Taking a deep breath, Harry made his choice.


The tip of his wand blasted out a streak of flame that drove everyone back. In that moment, Harry turned and began to ran as fast as he could, bowling down Umbridge, not caring about her cries of surprise as he ran.

And ran and ran on.


Harry banged through the door and into the fresh air of the castle grounds. He gave thanks that they hadn't thought to seal the doors up as he gazed about to get his bearings. He was on the East Side, a distance away from the main exits, the forest spread out before him.

He glanced behind him as he kept running forward, trying to think of his next move. He had no idea how long he might be able to keep going without being found out. He was sure the whole school must be alerted to this now and he knew the Aurors were on their way. At the moment, however, running was his only option.

His foot hit something, almost causing him to stumble onto his face. He managed to keep his balance as he looked down to see an object sitting on the ground. It was one of his own bags from his room, nicely packed with a small phoenix figurine sitting on top with a note attached. Frowning, Harry picked it up and glanced at the note.

Portkey is open for one minute. Seek out Rootcore for aid. Good luck, Potter.

Harry's frown deepened as he tired to think who could have left this for him. The sound of yells and footsteps got his attention and he turned his head to see shadows coming from the doorway. He looked down at the portkey and bit his lip. It was possible this was a trap but then again, his prospects really weren't that bright anyway. Grabbing the case with one hand, he clutched the figurine with the other, closing his eyes and taking a breath.

And in a bright flash of light, Harry Potter vanished to parts unknown.