In an attempt to get over my Harry Potter Writers Block I am starting a series of one-shots similar to my Buffy one to unclog the excess of ideas. All these stories have the possibility of me continuing them but if you want to do any of these feel free. Just tell and credit me, I would like to see where they would take you.

Please, Enjoy.

Summary: Harry has been having strange dreams, of another time, of other worlds, of different people. He is grown there. He is strong there. He wished he was more like the other him.

Title: Dreaming of a Soldier

Have you ever dreamed you were stronger?

That you were someone else?

Someone grander?

What if you were that person, just not here.

In dozen of other worlds, most probably an Earth, just to the side of where you are there are other versions of you going about their lives. Some thieves or dictator, others firefighters and advocates, maybe even some living a perfectly ordinary life. The time and place can be radically different but it is still you in some strange way.

These worlds would usual be disconnected, by a wall seemingly as thin as twine but stronger than anything imaginable. But in some cases there are cracks, holes, that can be exploited. Some don't know they're doing it, other reveal in it, gobbling up all the information they could and conquering.

Either way the person is changed forever.

This is the story of one little boy who not only lived off the experience but survived and thrived off it.

The saying "boys would be boys" was thrown around a lot at Surrey Primary School. Especially when it came to Dudley Dursley and his little group of friends.

Many of the teachers there were from the 'old guard' believing a good fight every now and then wasn't too bad, toughen the boys up. As long as no one got to roughed up too bad it was fine. And if it looked like it was getting that way they would step in.

Such as Mr. Johnson was doing then, separating Dudley Dursley from his cousin, Harry Potter. The smaller boy was a bit bruised and bleeding from the lip but a quick trip to the nurse he would be fine.

Dudley would get a bit of a talk, about morality and that it's not okay to just go around hitting people like that. What else could they do? They were only seven. The worst they can do is threaten to tell their guardians.

And really how often did that work? Kids needed to learn these lessons themselves, they could only guide them the best they could.

The Potter boy bit back a sniffle as one of the other teachers guided him to the nurses office. Johnson could only roll his eyes, kid needed to toughen up. Otherwise he would get nowhere in this world.

Harry tried not to make a sound as he tucked himself into bed that night. His sides and chin were starting to darken from thee blows he received during recess.

He didn't even blame the teachers anymore, it happened too often to be their fault. It was his fault he was just too weak.

He wished he was stronger.

Whether it was his wish aided by a burst of accidental magic, his counterpart's destiny or maybe even a combination of the two, it did not matter. Because he achieved the near impossible.

He connected realities.

That night he dreamed of a different childhood. A life on a farm far different than anything he ever seen. Sleek technology and alien creatures under a foreign moon, the memories of which would leave him in awe the following morning.

But the memories that would really stick out for him weren't of strange animals or impossible technologies but of two loving parents. Memories of a jovial black haired man and a beautiful red headed woman would occupy his mind for weeks to come.

Day after day he would watch and "remember" his other's life with envy. Watching them go through their day to day life as a happy family. He watched the other boy slowly grow into a "fine young man", as his father would tell anyone who listened.

But three weeks into the dreams, it happened.

The sky thundered unnaturally loud and buildings turned to ruble in moments. Numerous strange crafts landed all about the settlement and then, the screams came.

Different ones from all direction, begging, pained yells, the last gasp of life. They all rang through the streets.

His family hid in their barn, his father holding some sort of gun and Harry's other standing in front of his mother.

They broken in, ugly four eyed things, clad in thick armor and had more guns attached to them than Harry though possible.

His father, his other's father, started to fire his gun at the intruders in what seemed to be a vain attempt at damage as a strange blue barrier flickered in front of them. The things spared a brief entertained laugh as the dark haired man screamed for Harry to get his mother out of there.

Harry wanted to hesitate, to stay with his father, but blind fear for himself and his mother overwrote any shred of moral decency he had.

So he grabbed his mother's hand and ran, ignoring her protest and screams for her father. They were quickly silenced as the rapid beat of gun fire filled the air.

The remaining two family member would run for a short while longer before another gunshot rung through the air louder than the others.

His mother stumbled for a moment, her eyes wide as her hand griped her chest. She spared it a brief look, almost in wonder at all the red she saw leaking through, before looking her son right in the eye and whispering one word in a horse voice, "Run."

Harry, or his other as he wasn't even sure anymore, felt his eyes widen as he watched his mother fall in near slow motion and catching a glimpse of the four eyes things holding a long gun and started to point it at him.

In fear he ran, like a coward, abandoning his injured mother to save his own life.

He would not stop his pattern of running and hiding until the human armed forces arrived two days later.

Dudley didn't know what happened.

One minute it was like every other school day. Meet up with his friend, go to boring classes, and then head out to recess.

At first they were just going to play with his new toy but then his freak of a cousin walked by on his way to the swings. Harry Hunting, as he liked to call it, always made for a better recess.

But his cousin didn't respond to the usual goading or even get into a sprint. He just stood there staring, eyes shadowed by something Dudley was too young and inexperienced to understand. It didn't stop him from shoving his cousin though.

Surprisingly, instead of falling to his back Harry only stumbled a few steps away and quickly regained his ground. He just stood there, waiting, almost daring Dudley to do something.

A dare he took.

And unlike all the other fights Harry was involved in, that time he gave as good as he took. Flailing, scratching and biting for all he was worth. He didn't care if he got called a sissy later on, he was going to win that fight.

Later on, after the teachers pulled them apart, he would tell the curious listeners "I'm not running away any more."

And no one besides him really knew what that meant.

That night Harry suffered a yelling and a sore bottom but he did not back down or run away. He took the pain and refused to cry out because of it.

Which unnerved his uncle enough to stop after the third hit of the belt and just send Harry to his room under the stairs.

The boy didn't mind, he just wanted to sleep. Hoping to dream of the life of a farm and loving parents.

He didn't get what he wanted.

Instead of arriving to his dream as a waking farm boy his first sight was the inside of a large warehouse. Doctors looking over the other shell shocked survivors around him as soldiers guarded the doors and kept the peace.

He felt so empty. He couldn't even process what was going on around him. He heard people talking around him, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. They were all just a buzz in the back of his ear.

He just sat there, feeling more like he was going through the motions than anything else.

His parents were dead. What was he going to do now? He was barely sixteen, he didn't know what to do with his life, with himself.

A flash of guilt struck through his self pity like lightning. Here he was thinking of himself while his parents' bodies laid somewhere discarded on the planet's surface.

God he was pathetic.

A pair of shoes appeared in his downcast vision.

"Hey... kid," The doctor, attendant, nurse, whatever said, sounding as awkward as possible. "Um, the doc's need to check you over." None of the above then, probably some grunt sent to get the mopey kid and drag him over.


The grunt shifted uneasily as he guided the traumatized youth to a medical station, clearly uncomfortable in his presence and unsure what to say.

But he did want to say something, to make the kid feel better, even if it sounded stupid, cliché or just awkward.

"We'll make them pay kid. Someday soon, we'll make them pay."

But to the teenage boy, and to a large extension Harry, that day wasn't soon enough.

Dull and dead eyes.

That's the way many people would say Harry Potter's eyes looked in the corresponding weeks. Enough for a number of teachers, and even some parents, to pull him aside and ask him what's wrong.

He'd just stare at them for a while and either respond with a "Nothing" or an "I'm tired". Naturally this concerned a number of people because when a child denies something that usually means something is happening.

And if they add the odd violent behavior as of late to the equation they all could just smell trouble.

So, eventually the police were called in and the adults were none too quite about their speculations of abuse in one form or another.

A formal investigation would soon begin and a whole mess would follow after. But the boy they were all trying to help wouldn't truly notice until it was all over.

His mind filled with the memories of a pained boy.

Years have gone by and the farm boy has grown.

Over the years many things had changed and made him into a very different man than his parents expected him to be, or who he even expected to be.

He always thought he was going to be a farmer or maybe even a police officer in one of her more adventurous dreams but never did he think he was going to be a soldier.

But after Mindoir he couldn't see or bring himself to be anything else. And with his soon discovered Biotic potential the military took him gladly.

He trained hard, worked hard and pushed hard and was eventually rewarded with an invitation to N-School, the premier Human special ops program, within a year of his recruitment. And not only that but he was excelling, claiming another N-Rank with every passing year.

Currently he was only an N4 but he'd climb those last few steps and wear that N7 badge with pride. To say he made it, that he earned it.

Earned more than a cushy patrol route to get his "Space legs" that's for sure.

A hand clapped onto his shoulder and a voice yelled out "Shepard!" in a rather drunk bellow. It wasn't long before he was smiling along with the drunk ramblings of crew mates.

Well at least the shore leave wasn't that bad.


So if it wasn't obvious this is a Mass Effect/Harry Potter idea where Shepard and Harry are the same person but from Alternate realities and Harry is living Shepard's life with him.

This Shepard is a Colonist/War Hero Vanguard that learned a few tech abilities (EX: Overload) and from the lessons of his other's life Harry grew faster than he should have. Maturing and using his accidental magic like Biotics/Omni-tool.

By the time he starts Hogwarts he'll be going through ME1, second year ME2, third year ME3, and fourth year is Harry the product of both their lives going through the Twiwizard.

His views of the Wizarding world will be largely shaped by "his" experience in the Galactic community, for example his opinion on Goblins, "Like a Vorcha fucked a Volos.".

Pairing most likely a Fleur with an interest in archeology (hint, hint).

Anyway, please tell me what you think.