Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7891084.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J.K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Other(s)
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Neville_Longbottom, Other_-_Character
  Additional Tags:
      Crossover, Series, Drama, Romance, Original_Male_Character_-_Freeform
  Collections:
      Ink_Stained_Fingers
  Stats:
      Published: 2004-06-18 Chapters: 6/6 Words: 19050
****** Peace, Love, and Family ******
by Selune [archived by ISF_Archivist]
Summary
     Since he was a year old, Harry Potter has been the Wizarding World’s
     last, best hope against the Dark Lord Voldemort. What if a different
     world, the fairy world, wanted him for a different, but similar
     reason? Fusion with Gundam Wing. HarryNeville 2x1
Notes
     This story was originally archived at Ink_Stained_Fingers, which was
     created in 2002 as a home for Harry Potter slash fiction. To preserve
     the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an
     Open Doors-approved project in January 2015. We e-mailed all authors
     about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached
     everyone. If you are (or know) this author or artist, please contact
     me using the e-mail address at the Ink_Stained_Fingers_collection
     profile.
***** Peace, Love, and Family: The Story of the Vanuli Three *****
Peace, Love, and Family: The Story of the Vanuli Three




  Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter--the characters, setting,
  plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she
  decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing--the characters, setting, plot,
  everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

  Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of
  the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

  Rating: NC17 Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

  Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five
  heroes--the Gundam pilots--disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them--
  pilots 02, 03, and 05--reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as
  students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months
  after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and
  they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world--especially one
  Harry Potter--will never be the same.

  Peace, Love, and Family: The Story of the Vanuli Three Prologue: In the
  Beginning

  //Once upon a time, not so very long ago, three very special children were
  born. These children, born of the heir of the clan LeFey, were the first ever
  Vanuli triplets in existence. The clan LeFey rejoiced upon their arrival, for
  it was said that triplets--infraternal though they were--were very powerful,
  indeed.

  //Many plans were made for the children, as both the new heirs and a future
  triumvirate. Sadly, the plans were not to come to fruition. On the day of
  their births, four men came to the mother--they wanted to take the triplets.
  Being a woman, she knew that it was her duty to give her sons to their
  rightful fathers, as three of them were. One of the men--the only one whose
  seed did not create a child--wished to take all three with him, for it was
  with his magic that the children had been created. However, the mother knew
  that the man was a very evil man indeed and would use her children to his own
  devices. Knowing this, she did the only thing she could; she gave one child
  to each of the fathers. With this done, she effectively protected two of her
  children from the man.

  //The Vanuli world weeped when it discovered what had happened. However,
  after weeks of grief, a lowly Seer came forward. She said to the clan one
  sentence, but it was enough to bring joy to the bereaved peoples. She said to
  them, "On the night of their maturation, the Vanuli three will rise up and
  defeat two great evils."//

  December 31, AC 195

  The war was over. Kushrenada was dead, and the world was beginning to
  rebuild. Muggles everywhere rejoiced--as did Muggle-borns. However, it was
  but one war ended. Another, more concerning war was on the horizon, and a few
  Muggle-borns knew that, at any time, they might be called upon to fight. Not
  just for their freedom, but for their very lives.

  The Gundam pilots--those children most responsible for the end of the war--
  were at one of Quatre Winner's homes on Earth, resting. One of the thirty
  Winner children--a healer by the name of Madrigal--had set about healing the
  their injuries. The pilots were--with the exception of one--all wizards, but
  they were not among those who knew of the return of the Dark Lord Voldemort.
  Thus, thinking their service of war was done, they went about deciding what
  to do with the rest of their lives. The boys were awarded a pension by the
  Organization for Earth-Colony Alliance, an organization formed--surprisingly-
  -by Dorothy Catalonia after the fall of OZ and the White Fang. If they chose
  do so, the ex-pilots wouldn't have to work another day in their lives.

  Quatre Winner, pilot of Sandrock, decided to attend his family school, Winner
  School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His entire family had gone there, and he
  felt it to be one last tribute to his departed father. He offered full
  scholarships to the three other wizards, but they declined.

  Duo Maxwell, pilot of Deathscythe, applied as a transfer student to several
  magicing schools. Many of them never took transfers, but he already had
  received several favorable responses. He hoped to get into Beauxbatons.

  Trowa Barton, pilot of Heavyarms, planned to go back to the circus. Having
  just found out the Catherine Bloom was his biological sister, he longed to
  get to know the family he'd never dreamed of having.

  Wufei Chang, pilot of Shenlong, was to go to his ancestors' native China. He
  had discovered his family's ancestral home and wished to repair it.

  Heero Yuy, the pilot of Wing, had been accepted and enrolled into an
  engineering school on L1. Being the only Squib of the group, he realized that
  he might never be accepted into the wizarding world proper, and thus settled
  for living in the Muggle world for the rest of his life.

  In one week, the boys were all to go their separate ways, maybe so far away
  that they might never see each other again.

  ***

  Heero walked out onto the balcony of his and Duo's shared room and sat down
  beside Duo. They dangled their legs over the ledge; after all, they were only
  two floors up. Duo, being the more forward of the two--relationship-wise,
  anyway--inched his hands over to grasp Heero's. That was Heero's cue to lay
  his head on Duo's shoulder. The two had begun a tentative relationship months
  ago--after Heero rescued Duo from the OZ base--back when everything was a
  fight for survival, and none of them were sure they would live to see the
  next day. As a result of being together for so long during such stressful
  times, Heero and Duo had developed a sort of "sixth-sense" in regard to each
  other.

  Heero knew that Duo was worried about what would happen between the two of
  them after the week was up. Hell, he himself was scared to death that he'd
  never see Duo again. Heero raised Duo hand to his lips and kissed it, trying
  to dispel part of their concern.

  "Happy New Year," Heero said to Duo as the clock struck twelve, trying to
  inject some sense of normality into the otherwise tense situation. "Did you
  make any resolutions?"

  "Yeah," Duo said, unclasping his hand from Heero's. He brought an arm around
  Heero's shoulders and pulled his boyfriend tighter to him. The action made
  Heero think that Duo was trying to somehow pull him *into* Duo. He knew it
  was pathetic, but it was pathetically sweet. It made him feel better. Loved.

  "And since I plan on them coming true anyway, I suppose I should go ahead and
  tell you. Actually, babe, I'll just read them to you," Duo said, and Heero
  supposed he didn't hear a hint of sadness in Duo's voice. Duo dug around in
  his pants pocket for a minute before pulling out a yellow, wadded-up piece of
  paper. He smoothed it out and turned to Heero.

  " 'I, Duo Maxwell,' " he read, " 'resolve to to e-mail, owl, fire-call, or in
  some other way communicate with Heero Yuy at least twice a week for the next
  six months, until summer comes, and I can be with him again. I resolve to not
  look at any other man--or woman--as there would really be no point anyway.
  Heero Yuy is the sexiest son of a bitch in the universe and to compare anyone
  else to him would just be wrong and sad. I resolve to *not cut my hair*, no
  matter how much I may want to, because I know how much Heero loves it. Above
  all else, I resolve to bug Heero so much that--even if he is constantly
  bombarded with Muggle Adonises dropping in his lap and offering to feed him
  grapes while their identical twin brothers fan him--he will not forget me,
  and will be so overcome with guilt if he does, that he will send me naked
  pictures of himself doing naughty stuff with fun toys.' "

  Heero was laughing so hard by the time Duo finished--hard for Heero, anyway.
  His laugh was so low that no other than Duo could hear him doing something so
  un-Heeroish. As the force of suppressing his laugh made him convulse, he
  grabbed onto Duo's shirt and buried his face in the other's neck.

  //I really wish that I could make your resolutions come true,// Heero
  thought, sadly, after he'd gotten his laughter under control, //but that's
  not going to happen. I'm not going where you think I am, and I can't tell you
  where I am going. There's too much at stake, and Quatre's right. You'll never
  understand.//

  "I made a resolution, too, Duo," Heero said, his voice thick with sorrow,
  which he hoped Duo would mistake as a consequence of his laughter. He kissed
  Duo's neck, hoping to bring both of their attention away from the fact that
  they would be leaving each other in a week. Heero licked Duo's neck and
  purred when it elicited the desired response. "Well, it's actually more of a
  fantasy..." Heero trailed off when he noticed Duo looking at him lecherously.
  "Oh, you've had that fantasy, too?"

  Heero disengaged himself from his boyfriend and strutted into their room,
  shaking his ass in just the way Duo liked. Duo growled--quite sexily, Heero
  thought--and took after him like a shot. Heero was on the bed, spread out
  wantonly, by the time Duo entered the room. Heero smirked mischievously up at
  Duo and brought one sock-clad foot up to rest on the quilt.

  "Lock the door, Duo," Heero said in his huskiest bedroom voice, which--he had
  to admit--was quite the lust-inducer in his boyfriend. "Then come over here
  and play with me."

  Duo visibly twitched at that. He barely took his eyes off Heero as he locked
 the door and turned off the lights.

  Tonight, Heero planned to go farther with Duo than he ever had before. As
  long as they'd been together, Heero and Duo had never done more than jerk off
  each together. Heero knew Duo wanted to go farther--he could see it in his
  eyes every time Heero made him stop--but he would be able to do it. Tonight,
  Heero planned to give himself over to Duo, to show just how much he cared for
  the other.

  "Mmm, Duo, why are you all the way over there?" Heero purred when he realized
  that Duo had stopped and was just standing by the bed, staring at Heero.
  Heero fumbled for the buttons on his shirt, spreading his legs further. "Come
  over here and help me get this off."

  That seemed to snap Duo out of his Heero-induced stupor, and he pounced. The
  two rolled on the bed, and Duo ended up on top, between Heero's spread legs.
  He leaned down to kiss Heero, but Heero stopped him.

  "No," Heero said, holding Duo at bay. "I want to try something different
  tonight." To make sure his boyfriend understood *exactly* what he was saying,
  Heero reached between their bodies and grabbed Duo's still-clothed cock. "I
  want you inside me."

  "Are you sure?" Duo asked, his eyes going wide.

  Heero could understand his disbelief--many times Heero had said "yes" only to
  change his mind soon after. "Yes," he moaned, only this time he didn't plan
  on changing his mind.

  Quickly, Duo drew his wand from his pocket--oak wood, ten inches, with a
  Valkyrie claw core--and whispered, "*Nudus*." Both young men were stripped of
  their clothes. Duo groaned when their bodies touched for the first time
  without any boundaries.

  Heero grabbed onto Duo's hair--still bound in its ever-present braid--and
  pulled his soon-to-be lover into a kiss. A wet, sloppy kiss that professed
  all that he could not say in words. Duo pulled out of the kiss and whispered,
  "*Laxo*."

  Heero squeaked, then groaned, then moaned, as the muscles in his ass
  loosened. The spell also acted as a lubricant. He'd never been prepared so
  quickly before, but then, his previous lovers had been neither magical--with
  a few exceptions--or particularly worried about his comfort during the act.
  The fact that Duo--who Heero knew was a virgin--knew that spell drove home
  the fact that Duo really cared for him.

  Duo grasped Heero's hips and slowly slid into Heero's ass. Duo went fast, to
  Heero's surprise. He always expected that Duo would be slow and gentle the
  first time they made love. Heero grabbed onto the headboard as Duo pounded
  into him.

  "Ahh, yes," Heero cried as Duo finally hit his prostate. His entire body
  spasmed, and he clenched tigher onto Duo. Duo leaned down to suckle at
  Heero's neck, just at that exact spot Heero loved. Heero reached up to pull
  Duo's head closer to him and held him at his neck. "Duo, Duo!"

  Heero rocked up to meet Duo's thrusts, clenching his ass on every crest. Duo
  hit his spot one more time, and Heero came forcefully between their bodies.

  "OhmygodDuoIloveyouohmygod!" Heero screamed as the intensity of his orgasm
  hit him. Heero let go of Duo and flopped limply onto the bed as Duo continued
  to ram into him.

  Heero saw more than felt the moment before Duo's orgasm came. He stilled in
  midstroke, gasped, and then shuddered as he thrust the rest of the way in.
  After it was over, Duo pulled out and collapsed beside Heero. He grabbed his
  wand, which he had dropped earlier, and cast a simple cleaning charm on them.


  "Good night," Heero whispered before cuddling up to Duo. Sex always made him
  dead tired.

  "Happy New Year," Duo responded. "I love you."

  Heero smiled. Maybe he could find a way to make this work out.

  ***

  //BANG! BANG, BANG, BANG!//

  Heero lifted his head drowsily from Duo's chest. What was that noise? That
  awful, horrible, *loud* noise? Heero stood up slowly--so as not to wake Duo,
  though if that noise didn't wake him, nothing short of an atomic blast would-
  -and went to discover the source of the commotion.

  *Bang!*

  Heero heard it again--only a little quieter than before--but this time, he
  could make out that it was someone knocking at the door. He went over to
  answer it, only to find that it was Quatre.

  "What do you want, Quat?" Heero asked grouchily, noticing that Quatre was
  looking at him funny. Heero loved Quatre dearly, but one did not just come
  banging on another's door before the sun even came up and expect a happy
  admission.

  "The Maguanacs have found someone to, er, *help* you with your problem, but
  there's been a complication," Quatre said, sweeping into the room. "The man
  in question demands to speak with you."

  "So, what's the problem?" Heero asked. "I'll just talk to him next week. We
  planned on looking for someone to *help* me then. That'll just save us the
  trouble, and we can get right down to the helping."

  "And, see, that's the problem." Quatre said. "He wants to talk you now, not
  next week. As in ASAP."

  "He's just going to have to wait," Heero said, panic rising in his voice as
  he realized what Quatre meant. Now wasn't as soon as possible. Next week was
  as soon as possible. He was supposed to have another week with Duo!

  "He won't," Quatre insisted. "He wants to talk with you before midnight, or
  he'll walk out. The Maguanacs don't have the power to hold him if he wants to
  leave." Quatre looked at Heero pleadingly. "*Please*, Heero, we need to leave
  now."

  "I can't even say goodbye?" Heero asked, knowing the answer before he even
  asked the question.

  Quatre shook his head. "I'm sorry, but that would take time we don't have."
  Quatre hugged Heero in an almost-but-not-quite-bone-crushing hug. "I'll be
  waiting in the foyer while you pack, then we'll go. And, uh, put some clothes
  on."

  Heero looked down at himself and flushed bright red as Quatre walked out of
  the room. He was completely naked, with love bites covering many parts of his
  body.

  He got over his embarrassment quickly, though, as he realized that they were
  the last marks Duo would ever place on him. Tears slipped down his face as
  the full knowledge of all the things he and Duo wouldn't get to do together
  came crashing down upon him. They'd never cuddle on a loveseat as their
  friends teased them about their massive PDAs. They'd never walk on a beach
  with the waves crashing around their ankles, not worrying about OZ soldiers
  finding and attacking them. They'd never go on their first date in a public
  place, or do anything else together ever again.

  Heero fell to his knees at the side of the bed and stared at Duo. He ran his
  fingers over his lover's face--from his forehead to his wide cobalt eyes
  (closed now), to his cute nose, to his full lips, just begging to be kissed.
  So Heero did.

  "*Ai shiteru*," Heero whispered against Duo's mouth, admitting to himself for
  the first time that it really was true. He loved Duo. Even though he'd never
  told him that, Heero hoped that, somehow, Duo knew. "Maybe, someday, we can
  be together again."

  Heero kissed Duo one last time and rose from the floor. He went to their pile
  of clothes--the Nudity Charm, designed to strip one quick and in a hurry, had
  piled their clothes in a big mess--and took out his clothes. He put them on,
  and his shoes, and left the room. He didn't really want anything here--with
  the exception of Duo, and that he couldn't have. They could get him anything
  he might need on L1.

  Heero stepped into the foyer and saw Quatre standing there, looking at him
  with something akin to pity in his eyes. Heero tried not to look at him,
  didn't want to see what he knew was there.

  "I wish you hadn't done that, hadn't slept with him," Quatre said to Heero as
  he gathered his own bags. "You know if he finds out, he'll never understand."

  Nodding, Heero grabbed a suitcase. Heero knew that Duo wouldn't understand,
  period. He wouldn't know why Heero left him because Heero didn't tell him.

  They stepped out of the house to the car that would take to them to the
  shuttle port and out of Duo's life. As Heero got into the car alongside
  Quatre and his sister Maddy, he looked back at the mansion, the last place he
  would ever see Duo Maxwell. His one and only Shinigami.

  Selune
***** Chapter 1 *****
Chapter 1




  Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter-the characters, setting,
  plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she
  decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing-the characters, setting, plot,
  everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

  Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of
  the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

  Rating: NC17 Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

  Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five
  heroes-the Gundam pilots-disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them-
  pilots 02, 03, and 05-reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as
  students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months
  after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and
  they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world-especially one
  Harry Potter-will never be the same.

  Peace, Love, and Family: The Story of the Vanuli Three Chapter 1: First
  Meeting Between Brothers

  September 1, AC 197

  "Well, mate, I'll see you in a bit," Ron Weasley said to his best friend,
  Harry, before leaving said friend to go to the prefect's car.

  Harry knew that Ron-and Hermione, their other best friend-had to go to the
  prefect's car, at least for a little while. Harry knew that, as prefects, his
  friends had to check in with the Head Boy and Girl and get their
  instructions. He also knew that, as soon as they could, Ron and Hermione
  would come find Harry. But he couldn't help resenting that he would not only
  have to find an empty car-so that no one would interrupt the three of them
  when Ron and Hermione finally showed up-but that he'd also have to be alone
  until they got there.

  Harry hated being alone. He thought that, maybe, it had something to do with
  the fact that bad things usually happened to him when he was alone. He grew
  up alone, in a cupboard under the stairs in his aunt and uncle's house.
  Hagrid showed up to rescue him when he was eleven. He wasn't alone then.

  Harry faced an evil Professor Quirrel with a dead Voldemort attached to his
  head alone in his first year at Hogwarts. Sure, Ron and Hermione had been
  with him *right up* until the beginning of the end, but when push came to
  shove and the gloves were coming off and the fat lady was just about to sing,
  Harry had to leave his friends behind and fight Quirrel alone.

  Harry was alone when he faced the diary of Tom Riddle in second year.
  Hermione was in the infirmary, and Ron had to watch Lockehart, and Ginny was
  unconscious, and Fawkes was there to help him and save him, but birds don't
  count, and Harry was *alone*.

  Harry wasn't alone in third year when he faced the "murderer" Sirius Black.
  His friends were there with him, and Ron was willing to die for him, and even
  though it wasn't necessary-Sirius was a *good* man who would never hurt Harry
  because he was his godfather and loved him very much-Harry still appreciated
  it and remembered what it felt like not to be alone.

  Harry wasn't alone in fourth year, either-though he sometimes wished he had
  been-when Harry faced Voldemort live and in the flesh for the first time.
  Cedric Diggory was with him, but then he died, was killed, was *murdered*,
  and Harry was alone again. He was alone when his wand met with Voldemort's.
  And then he wasn't. His mum was there, and he was sort of happy because of
  that and sort of sad because it wasn't really her, but that didn't matter
  anyway because someone was there and he wasn't alone anymore.

  In fifth year, Harry wasn't alone when *it* happened. He was surrounded by
  people as Sirius Black-his godfather, his supposed-to-be guardian, the link
  to his parents who'd spent so much time fighting, just like Harry, not to be
  alone-fell into the veil and disappeared. That was one time Harry remembered
  when it would have been better for him to be alone. If he'd been alone,
  Sirius wouldn't have been there. If Sirius wasn't there, he wouldn't have
  fallen beneath the veil. Harry wished that he had been alone then.

  Harry was alone when, in sixth year, Lucius Malfoy escaped from Azkaban and
  came after him. Harry was alone when Malfoy caught him and tried to take him
  to Lord Voldemort. Harry was alone when he bashed Malfoy's head in with a
  rock-being a pureblood, Malfoy never thought to protect against that. And
  when he dragged the stinking, rotting corpse into Hogsmeade, Harry was alone.

  So, seeing the problems Harry had with being alone, it was no wonder, really,
  that he felt abandoned and lonely when Ron and Hermione left him to go to the
  prefect's car, even if he couldn't really fault them for going. After all,
  they had a job to do, and it wasn't to make him feel more comfortable. What
  Harry could do, however, was find a car with some of his other friends on it
  and hope that he didn't intrude too terribly much.

  So that's what he did. It took him fifteen cars, thirteen friends, twelve
  acquaintances, and three snogging couples, but Harry finally found a car of
  people that he liked who liked him back that he wouldn't feel uneasy around
  if they all just sat there and stared into space. Which was really what he
  felt like doing.

  Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood. Two weirder people Harry had never met
  (well, actually, Neville was kind of normal, but Luna took up enough weird on
  the weird-o-meter that all the weird hunters flocked to Hogwarts to bask in
  her weirdness), but they were good people. Other than Ron and Hermione, they
  were his best friends.

  "Hey," Harry said as he settled beside Neville. He flushed a bit as he did
  because last year he had developed a bit of a crush on Neville. Not a big
  crush, not the "oh my god, he's looking at me, I think I'll die now" sort of
  crush, but more like the "I like his hands" sort or maybe even the "it's nice
  how he'll hug me when I have a nightmare" type. Neville was nice and caring
  and always friendly to Harry, even when Harry was in his meanest, snarliest,
  snarkiest, trash-the-room-blow-up-the-building-ain't-*nobody*-surviving-this
  rage.

  Neville was great when it came to those type things, which made Harry wonder
  if Neville was good at other things, too. If they kissed, would it just be
  "wet"? Harry didn't think so. He thought that it would be timid at first.
  Neville wouldn't know what to do with his hands, so Harry would draw them
  around his waist, and Neville would just hold him. Harry's own hands would go
  into Neville's hair, free of any products, soft, black as coal, like Harry's
  own. Harry would pull Neville's head down and press his lips to Neville's.
  Harry would lick Neville's upper lip. That would be enough to free both of
  them from their shyness. From then on, it would be all tender passion,
  burning desire. Their hands would be all over each other, exploring, ripping
  the other's clothes off. Harry would wrap his legs around Neville's waist,
  and he'd just *squeeze* with his thighs, grinding against Neville. Neville
  would push him against a wall, maybe onto the floor instead. They'd-

  "-Harry?" Neville said and put a hand on Harry's arm.

  Harry shivered at the slight contact and turned to face Neville, their knees
  brushing in the process. "Sorry?" Harry said, his earlier blush deepening. He
  tried to think of a good lie to tell Neville as to why he hadn't been paying
  attention. He couldn't actually say that the reason was because he was
  fantasizing about a rampant snog session between the two of them. Harry
  settled on a half-truth. "I was kind of lost in thought and wasn't listening.
  Sorry."

  Neville smiled, a crooked, endearingly sweet smile that Harry loved so much,
  and dropped his hand from Harry's arm. "S'okay," he said. "I know what that's
  like, sometimes. I was only asking you how your summer was. Nothing too
  terribly important."

  Harry's already scarlet face deepened in hue at the thought of Neville
  wanting to know about his summer, of him caring enough to ask. Of *course*
  Neville cared. He and Harry were friends, and that's what friends did. It
  didn't mean anything else, no matter how much Harry might wish it did. Harry
  blushed brighter.

  "Are you okay?" Neville asked. He reached up and touched Harry's cheek. "I
  only ask because, well, you're as bright as a tomato, and well, you're
  burning up."

  "I'm all right," Harry squeaked-in his manliest voice, of course-as Neville
  moved his hand to Harry's forehead.

  "You sure?" Neville said. "You're awfully hot."

  Harry heard Luna snort from the other side of the car.

  "Yeah," he said, pulling back from Neville's hand. He had completely
 forgotten that Luna was in the car, and as she knew about Harry's little-
  teeny, tiny, miniscule, microscopic-crush, he didn't want her to see him all
  twitterpated.

  "How was your summer?" Harry asked Neville, trying to get the attention off
  himself. Harry didn't particularly want to talk of his summer, especially the
  part he spent with the Dursleys. It wasn't that it was bad-his relatives were
  on their best behavior since Mr. Weasley and the others gave Uncle Vernon a
  stern talking-to-it was just that it wasn't important anymore, now that he
  was going home to Hogwarts. Harry would much rather hear about Neville, who
  probably had a more interesting summer, anyway.

  "Well," Neville said, only to have Luna interrupt him.

  "Daddy took me to Romania," Luna said. "We met a pack of vampires. You should
  have seen them! They were nothing like the paper wants you to think. They
  weren't all about sucking blood and evil. They were some of the nicest people
  I've ever met. I think I'll get Daddy to take me back next summer."

  Luna was just finishing her story on how the head vampire turned out to be
  vegetarian and sucked all the blood he needed from mandrakes-her father put
  it in *The Quibbler*, the magazine he owned-when the door burst open and two
  unknown boys fell in. One was blonde, the other brunette, both were short (at
  least, they looked short from where they were lying on the floor), and Harry
  had never seen either of them before. They were wearing Hogwart's robes, but
  anybody could buy those, if they wanted. Harry edged his wand into his hand
  and waited for them to get up.

  The brunette did so first, scowling as he helped up his companion. "I told
  you there was someone in here," he said to the other in a low voice that
  Harry could barely hear.

  "Yeah, well, I figured you would rather be in here with strangers than out
  there with not-so-strangers," the blonde said, also speaking in a low tone.

  "You mean..." the brunette trailed off.

  "Yes, I mean," the blonde said. "I saw him-with a capital H-I-M-out in the
  corridor. I felt the most sensible course of action would be to push you into
  an empty compartment until you could figure out what to say to him."

  "Oh, obviously," the brunette said. He smoothed out his robes, picking
  imaginary lint from them. "One problem. This car isn't empty."

  "Well, *sorry* for trying to be nice," the blonde said. Then, for the first
  time since he fell into Harry's car, seemed to remember that "not an empty
  car" meant that there were other people in it. "Oh, where are my manners?" He
  turned to Harry and his friends. "I'm Quatre Winner, and this charming devil
  is Heero Yuy. We're transfers."

  ***

  Heero groaned-mentally, not aloud, as did one befitting his station-when
  Quatre explained the reasoning behind literally *falling* into the occupied
  car. Heero knew that He would be hear, had heard about Him transferring from
  Beauxbatons when Voldemort was pronounced alive by the Minister of Magic.
  Heero had heard and thought about what that might mean, and he had discussed
  it with Dorothy and Quatre until all three were blue in the face. Eventually,
  they decided to come to Hogwarts as planned. One most likely disgruntled ex-
  lover was not enough to throw away years of planning. Besides, Heero and
  Quatre's Second was here, and the only way to get him to trust them was by
  coming to his school. Preferably being Sorted into his House.

  He knew that Duo Maxwell was going to be here. He even accepted that the two
  of them may have several classes together. But he was not yet ready to have
  Duo confront him on what he did. Heero guessed he should thank Quatre for
  getting him out of a situation he had not even realized he was in. But Quatre
  didn't have to push him so hard!

  Heero rubbed his upper arm. He landed on it rather rough and knew that, by
  the Sorting, it was going to be a nasty bruise. It used to take a lot to
  injure Heero. Whether he jumped out of a building or self-destructed his
  Gundam, he would hardly have a scratch on him. At least, compared to the
  others around him, he'd be relatively uninjured. Now, Heero got hurt if he
  tried walking and talking at the same time. But, he would take a fragile body
  over no magic any day.

  Quatre elbowed Heero, and he realized that the overweight kid was holding out
  his hand, waiting for Heero to shake it. Heero smiled at him in what he hoped
  was a self-deprecating way and took his hand, holding it firmly and giving
  three hard pumps, just as that bastard J taught him.

  "Neville Longbottom," the other said, and Heero nodded his head. Quatre
  already introduced them, so Heero felt no obligation to repeat his own name.
  Heero shook the other persons' hands-"Harry Potter," obviously, and "Luna
  Lovegood."

  After introductions were out of the way, Quatre asked if the others cared if
  he and Heero stayed in their car. The two of them could leave, if they wanted
  them to, but it was just that they didn't know anyone else, and all the other
  cars already had people in them. And they lost somebody, and Quatre was
  always told that if he lost someone, he should just wait until they found
  him. And he and Heero were sort of avoiding someone, so he'd rather not go
  back into the hall.

  Quatre was just about to plead that all the dolphins and whales and little,
  pretty fish in the oceans would leap for joy, and the ozone layer would build
  itself back up, and all manner of nasty, rotten creatures-except for the good
  ones in each species, of course-would crawl under rocks and hide there until
  their dying days if *only* Quatre and Heero could stay in the car, when Harry
  stepped forward and said, "Okay."

  So they sat down beside Luna, on the bench across from Harry and Neville.
  When they were settled, Heero leaned forward to whisper in Quatre's ear,
  "Laying it on a little thick, weren't you?"

  Quatre huffed and turned pointedly to Heero. "This is a perfect opportunity,"
  he said quietly in his best "you're so dumb, it's so *obvious*" voice. "We're
  in here, with our Second. We didn't plan this, so there's no additional
  deception involved. We didn't even have to come up with some half-assed,
  diabolical scheme.

  "The only way it could be better is if the other two weren't in here. But,
  even with them here, we can charm our way into his heart, at least a little
  bit. He can get to know us a bit before the Sorting. It could prove to be a
  buffer, if we don't get into Gryffindor. And if we do, it could be a stepping
  stone into friendship

  "Now, you put on your perkiest smile, act happy, and schmooze your way into
  our little lion's life."

  Heero chuckled as Quatre asked what year and House the other three were in.
  Predictably, Harry said he was a seventh year Gryffindor. Heero had lived in
  several private treatment facilities for the last twenty months and in a
  vigilante army base for most of his first fifteen years, but even *he* knew
  who Harry Potter was. Neville was in the same House and year as Harry.
  Surprisingly, Luna was a sixth year Ravenclaw.

  "I thought there were big time House rivalries?" Heero asked before he could
  stop himself. Two years spent with Quatre-and a year before that with Duo-had
  considerably lowered Heero's tact, and his vocabulary.

  "Well, there were House rivalries," Harry said, "but they were never between
  Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. It's always been Gryffindor kicking the snot out of
  Slytherin, and Ravenclaw fighting with Hufflepuff. That's all gone now. At
  least, it's supposed to be. Professor Dumbledore-the Headmaster-abolished
  House points when he came back last year in a ploy to get us all to work
  together. There's not even a Quidditch cup anymore!

  "I guess there's no point in it, anymore, really, what with Volde-sorry,
  Neville-You-Know-Who around. He doesn't care which House beats which, as long
  as he beats them all."

  "I guess that makes sense," Quatre said, leaning forward. "Dumbledore must
  have that whole "Divided we're conquered, united we stand" philosophy going
  on. Would you tell me some more? I'd kind of like to know what I'm getting
  myself into by transferring here."

  At that exact moment, just as Harry opened his mouth, the door to the car
  burst open once more. In strode a boy with the whitest blonde hair Heero had
  ever seen outside of a Veela family reunion. Behind him stood two hulking
  drones, Trowa Barton-//he went to Hogwarts?//-and Duo Maxwell. To make
  matters worse, behind him was someone Heero thought he would never have to
  see again: Daemon Rosencrantz.

  "Shut your mouth, Potter," Blondie said, coming fully into the car, "you'll
  let the flies in."

  Selune

***** Chapter 2: Enter Trouble *****
Chapter 2: Enter Trouble




  Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter--the characters, setting,
  plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she
  decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing--the characters, setting, plot,
  everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

  Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of
  the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

  Rating: NC17 Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

  Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five
  heroes--the Gundam pilots--disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them--
  pilots 02, 03, and 05--reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as
  students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months
  after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and
  they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world--especially one
  Harry Potter--will never be the same.

  Peace, Love, and Family: The Story of the Vanuli Three Chapter 2: Enter
  Trouble

  Quatre didn't know exactly what was happening. He didn't know who the
  arrogant blonde kid was. He didn't know who the huge, dumb looking guys with
  the massive arms were. He didn't know who the tall skinny guy with the light
  brown hair was--he suspected Heero knew him, could feel the familiarity
  between the two. But Quatre *did* know Duo, and he *did* know Trowa, and he
  *did* know that the situation would have to be diffused. And quick.

  The boy that Heero seemed to know stepped forward, pushing Blondie--the only
  one who'd spoken thus far; he seemed to be the leader--and the others out of
  the way. He stood in front of Heero and glared down at him.

  "I knew Dumbledore would let a lot of people in, but I always thought he
  would draw the line at *your* kind, Squib," he said. His voice was low,
  gutteral. Animalistic, even. It combined the pitch of a boy who had just
  become a man with the intonation of a man who had never been a boy.

  Heero growled--low in his throat, where nobody could hear it unless they knew
  him and were listening--and started to stand up. Quatre stopped him before
  his butt ever left the seat.

  "No, Ro," Quatre said, grasping Heero's upper arm. Heero did as told, but the
  hardness didn't leave his eyes.

  "How did *you* get into Hogwarts, Yuy?" Bastard--as Quatre secretly named
  him--demanded, using his height to try and intimidate Heero. This guy
  couldn't know Heero that well, if he thought mere height would make Heero
  cower in fear. "You coming for the "Squib Training Program"? Is Filch going
  to teach you to be a janitor, just like him?"

  The other boys with Bastard laughed. Quatre grimaced when he saw that Duo
  joined in. He was laughing the loudest and most obnoxiously of the six.

  Height wouldn't intimidate Heero--either another person's or a building's
  from which he was about to jump--power would not frighten him, and death
  itself held no sway over him, but Duo Maxwell's rejection would shatter him.
  Quatre hoped that Heero didn't notice Duo. One look at Heero took that hope
  and beat it on the head with a sledgehammer. Repeatedly. Quatre hated it when
  anyone hurt Heero, and Duo just hurt Heero. Quatre decided, then and there,
  that Duo Maxwell was worthy of only the highest, most intense form of hatred.

  Heero's eyes weren't hard anymore; they were open and raw. Still shielded to
  the untrained eye, Quatre's eyes were trained and practiced in the art of
  Heero decoding. Heero was crushed. His mouth was set in a straight line, his
  jaw barely trembling with the effort to keep from lashing out. His hands lay
  splayed on his thighs, but Quatre could see the slight tension in his
  forearms, evidence of the work it was taking Heero to to clench them into
  fists. Quatre had rarely seen Heero like this, but he knew what it meant.
  Heero Yuy was well and truly pissed.

  Keeping his right hand on Heero's arm, he brought the other up to lay at the
  small of Heero's back, right below a scar. If things went bad--well, worse
  than they already were--Quatre would latch onto Heero's robe and hold him
  back. Quatre hoped that wouldn't be the case because if someone made Heero
  angry enough to lose control, he himself would probably have already jumped
  off the "control bridge" long ago. No one would be able to hold *him* back if
  that happened.

  "Maybe you stole the magic?" the Bastard-Demon-From-Hell-Who-Deserved-To-Die-
  And-If-Quatre-Got-His-Way (And-He-Always-Did) He-Would said. The others had
  stopped laughing, and the words seemed to echo throughout the car. Heero's
  face paled, and Quatre hoped that no one else saw it. Apparently, wishes
  don't come true, for Bastard smirked. "I can see that I'm on the right track.
  So, how much did you steal, Yuy? From who? Does Professor Dumbledore know
  that you're a thief? Ooh, what would your precious Dr. J say about you now,
  you murdering, thieving, little Squib?"

  Heero was out of the seat before Quatre could react. By the time Quatre
  realized his hands were empty, Heero had Bastard by the throat. Heero was
  holding him off the floor--no easy feast, as Bastard was quite a bit taller
  than him--and he was saying something to him in a low, clipped voice. Quatre
  couldn't hear what he said, but whatever it was made all the blood rush from
  Bastard's face.

  Heero dropped Bastard on the floor and looked back at Quatre before walking
  out. Quatre took that to mean that he was allowed to follow.

  Quatre was stepping over Bastard when he yelled out, "Once a Squib, always a
  Squib!" Quatre changed directions and stepped on him. Hard.

  Quatre knew where Heero would go (the same place everybody went when they
  wanted to be alone in a public place: the bathroom); however, he wanted to
  reach Heero before what Quatre dubbed "The Duo Fallacy" happened. Quatre
  wanted to be near him before he could lock the experience into a little mind-
  box, deny it ever happened, and leave with a smile on his face. Basically,
  Quatre wanted to catch Heero before he took a swim in denial.

  Quatre sighed in relief when he opened the door to the bathroom. Heero was
  splashing his face with water. He had a smile on his face, but it was forced
  and not the goofy kind that Quatre came to associate with Too Late. Quatre
  would still be able to help his little brother.

  "So, what--," Quatre began but was quickly interrupted.

  "Isn't he everything you thought he would be?" Heero said, his eyes
  attempting to light up but failing miserably. He dried his face and hands and
  turned back to Quatre. "Our Second, I mean. Isn't he just wonderful? Think,
  Quatre, our middle brother is none other than Harry Potter! It's absolutely
  *fantastic*!

  "Heero," Quatre interject, but it didn't stop him.

  "I mean, just, wow! You know? You hear about these things, and you know them,
  and maybe you even See them, but it's never really real until you see it for
  the first time. You know what I mean?" Heero bit his lip and looked Quatre in
  the eye, concern showing on his face.

  //Finally,// thought Quatre. He was going to say something about what just
  happened! But no, Quatre was wrong. Heero, apparently, had no intention of
  talking about Duo or Bastard or even Trowa!

  "Do you think he liked us?" Heero said in that small, little kid's voice he
  sometimes used. Quatre hated that voice. Heero Yuy was supposed to be strong
  and be able to leap over tall buildings in a single bound and crush the bones
  of his enemies with his teeth. Heero Yuy was not supposed to be brittle and
  fragile and afraid of his own brother's opinion of him. Heero Yuy was not
  supposed to have to be comforted by his older brother in a dingy bathroom on
  a train on their way to a new school, new home, new life. It wasn't supposed
  to happen, and it wasn't fair, but Quatre was not about to let Heero suffer
  all alone.

  "Yeah, I think he does," Quatre said and pulled Heero into a one-armed hug.
  Heero flinched, and Quatre stepped back, startled. Heero had gotten over his
  aversion to touch a little while back, so something had to be up. "What's
  wrong?"

  Heero opened his mouth and quickly shut it again. He was probably going to
  tell Quatre that it was "nothing" and that he would be "fine," but Heero's
  time spent with Quatre taught him something. And that something was that
  "nothing" was never an appropriate answer to give an overprotective older
  brother. And Quatre was as overprotective as they came. Anyone who had Heero
  as family had to be.

 "My arm," Heero said, reaching up to rub it. "It bruised when I fell
  earlier."

  Of course, Quatre knew that meant when *he* had pushed Heero. Now, it was
  Quatre's turn to bite his lip. He really should be more careful with Heero--
  the treatment really weakened his body.

  "I can probably heal the surface of the bruise myself, but I'm going to need
  help for the internal portion."

  Ahh, Quatre could help there. He had a potion for everything. If there wasn't
  a potion for it, he would make one. If it could be conceived, it could be
  brewed. He was the Amazing Potions Man!

  Quatre reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a vial. Like some other
  students--Muggle-borns, especially--Quatre didn't feel right about going
  around in just robes. It made him feel naked and exposed. Something he didn't
  like in the best of times, much less surrounded by strangers and enemies in a
  potentially hostile environment. So, Quatre always wore pants and a shirt
  under his robes, which was a good thing, as robes had no pockets in which to
  put potions.

  "Here you go," Quatre said, handing the vial to Heero. "Drink half of it now,
  and if a bruise shows up, drink the other half later. It should heal any
  other minor injuries you've not seen fit to tell me about."

  Heero drank the instructed amount and slid--bonelessly--to the floor. Quatre
  sat beside Heero and pulled him into his lap. He leaned his head against the
  wall and stroked Heero's hair.

  "It's also a truth potion," Quatre said. Heero stiffened in his arms. Rather,
  he tried to stiffen, but because the potion acted as a mild muscle relaxer in
  order to heal, he couldn't. The *Claritaserum* didn't relax him so much that
  he wouldn't be able to talk, however.

  Quatre continued petting Heero's hair as he wrestled over whether or not to
  ask Heero about Bastard. This could be the only time Heero would give
  straightforward, honest answers. Despite their closeness, Heero hardly ever
  purposely revealed anything about his past to Quatre, and this felt like the
  past--before the Gundams. Quatre supposed he could always just have a Look,
  but the Sight was sometimes unpredictable and occasionally wouldn't happen if
  he really wanted it to. Most times, though, it worked perfectly. In the end,
  Quatre decided to pursue questioning and stop if he felt Heero getting too
  upset. He'd deal with the consequences later.

  "Who was that guy back there? The tall one with the brown hair?" Quatre
  asked, clarifying so that Heero couldn't intentionally misunderstand him and
  say "Duo" or "Trowa".

  "I knew him--Daemon--from before. We used to be friends," Heero said. It was
  muffled because his face was pressing into Quatre's shoulder, but Quatre
  could decipher what he said. Quatre helped Heero turn over, so he could
  understand him better.

  "What happened?" Quatre prodded. The interaction between Heero and this
  Daemon guy was not that of old friends or even friends who had a huge falling
  out. Daemon acted more like a vengeful ex-lover, more like Duo should have
  than anything.

  "//Weakness is failure, and failure is death. Please, cut from us our
  weakness, Dr. J, so that we may live for you,//" Heero said. It sounded like
  he was quoting. Heero sighed, and a tear ran down his face. "Daemon betrayed
  me in the worst way possible. Please, Quat, don't ask me any more. I'll tell
  you later, I promise, just don't make me say it now."

  "Okay," Quatre promised, wiping the tear from Heero's cheek. He didn't like
  it, but he would do as Heero wished. "I won't ask any more--for now."

  Quatre gathered Heero closer to him and rocked, as he started doing so many
  months ago, when Heero was still in treatment. Quatre wanted to get to know
  his middle brother, but he already knew his little one. He loved Heero more
  than he had ever loved anybody--more than his mothers (biological and step),
  all of his sisters combined, even his father. Heero was Quatre's whole world;
  he was his family. No one--not even a god--could help him who hurt Quatre's
  family.

  Quatre was still rocking Heero when the door opened and in walked Duo and
  Trowa. Duo's eyes formed slits, and he glared at Quatre with the power of a
  thousand suns. Quatre glared back at Duo, jaw set, determined. Duo hurt Heero
  and was thus the Enemy.

  //He loves you, so you're safe now. But if you hurt him any more, after all
  he's been through, not even a bicorn will go near your remains.//

  ***

  Harry stared out the door Heero and Quatre just walked out of. Then his eyes
  flicked down to Rosencrantz. Door, Rosencrantz. Door, Rosencrantz. Door,
  Rosencrantz.

  That was *interesting*, to say the least. Here Harry was expecting a big
  blowout between himself and Malfoy--who, as always, had his Slytherin
  entourage to back him up--and instead, the blowout had been between a
  transfer student and the most unobtrusive of Malfoy's gang. Harry didn't
  really know what the fight was about (other than the fact that Rosencrantz
  called Heero a Squib), but the fact that Heero stood up for himself (and
  how!) made Harry respect him. Maybe he and his friend (Harry saw the kick he
  gave Rosencrantz) would be Sorted into Gryffindor. That might be nice.

  Harry broke out of alternating stares and turned his gaze to Malfoy. "What do
  you want, Malfoy?" Harry demanded. He stood in front of Malfoy, his hands
  clenched at his sides, wand in his right hand. Slytherins were really more
  trouble than they were worth, and Harry couldn't understand why Professor
  Dumbledore didn't just toss out the lot of them. Good-bye, sayanora, don't
  come back now, ya hear?

  "This is tiresome and dreadfully boring, Malfoy," Harry said. Out of the
  corner of his eye, Harry saw Barton and Maxwell leave the car. "One of your
  friends is on the floor, crying like a little baby--put there by a supposed
  *Squib*--two of the others just sneaked off with their tails between their
  legs, and you're here with us," Harry pointed to himself, Neville, and Luna,
  "and two lumps of dumb," Harry pointed to Crabbe and Goyle. "Now, what would
  a smart person do in this situation?" Harry put his hand on his chin and
  pretended to ponder the question. "Oh, yeah. Run! Now, you shoo on along,
  Malfoy. You're outnumbered and outwitted, three brains to one."

  "We're not done here, Potter," Malfoy scowled, but he helped up Rosencrantz.
  Crabbe and Goyle were already heading for the door. "I'll get you for what
  you did to my father." Then Malfoy turned and--along with Rosencrantz--
  followed Crabbe and Goyle out.

  When the door was shut and the two Gryffindors and one Ravenclaw were once
  again safely ensconced in their car--alone together--Harry fell back on to
  his bench, giggling furiously. Neville and Luna looked at him as though he
  were mad, but it just made him laugh that much harder. The look on Malfoy's
  face! It was almost as if he thought the threats of a dead Death Eater's son
  would scare him, especially when Harry himself had killed the Death Eater in
  question.

  Harry eventually got his giggles under control. He looked up to find Neville
  and Luna--Luna, for Pete's sake!--looking at him as if he had gone stark,
  raving mad.

  "What?" he asked, knowing full well what they were staring at but not
  acknowledging it in any way, shape, or form. After all, it wasn't every day
  one saw the Boy-Who-Lived in the midst of gut-wrenching laughter.

  "Nothing, Harry, just wondering what was so funny," Neville said, sitting
  down beside Harry.

  "Same here," Luna said, settling back in her seat with the latest copy of
  *The Quibbler*.

  Harry was just starting to get comfy when the door opened for the third--and
  hopefully final--time. Hermione and Ron walked in, both of their prefect
  badges gleaming.

  "It took us forever to find you, Harry," Hermione scolded, coming to sit
  beside Harry.

  "Yeah, mate. We were about to give you up for lost," Ron said, settling
  beside Luna. "So, we miss anything?"

  Harry couldn't help it. That one innocent question opened the floodgates, and
  he burst out laughing again. As Harry buried his face into Hermione's robe,
  he heard Luna say, "More than you probably wish to know."

  Selune
***** Chapter 3: Look, Ma, Its a Gryffindor! *****
Chapter 3: Look, Ma, It's a Gryffindor!




  Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter--the characters, setting,
  plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she
  decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing--the characters, setting, plot,
  everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

  Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of
  the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

  Rating: NC17 Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

  Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five
  heroes--the Gundam pilots--disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them--
  pilots 02, 03, and 05--reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as
  students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months
  after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and
  they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world--especially one
  Harry Potter--will never be the same.

  Peace, Love, and Family: The Story of the Vanuli Three Chapter 3: Look, Ma,
  It's a Gryffindor!

  Heero wrung his hands and paced the floor. He, Quatre, and Dorothy were
  waiting to be Sorted. He was nervous as hell. They were in a room just off
  the Great Hall. They were all alone so it was okay to show it. Had any one
  else been there, Heero would have hidden his feelings. Quatre and Dorothy
  were family, though--brother and Naiyama--they wouldn't use it against him.

  Quatre was nervous, too. He kept walking over to Heero, hugging him, walking
  over to Dorothy, hugging her, and then repeating the action. Every time
  Quatre hugged Heero, he would stop pacing and hug him back. Quatre was a very
  tactile person around those he loved, and the touch-feeliness always seemed
  to increase exponentially as he became more and more nervous.

  Heero couldn't tell what Dorothy was feeling. She stood stock still, her face
  expressionless. Occasionally, she would return Quatre's hugs, but more often
  than not, she just let him hug her. Rarely, she would smile at them.

  Heero couldn't see how she did it--at least, not around him and Quatre. Heero
  himself was eaten up with nerves. What if he didn't get into Gryffindor? What
  if Quatre didn't? What if Quatre did, but Heero didn't, or vice versa? What
  about Dorothy? Would it be better or worse if they were in the same House as
  her? Those questions and others plagued Heero as he paced.

  Heero worked himself into a state by the time Quatre meandered back for his
  4,283rd hug--but that might be an exaggeration. Heero latched onto Quatre
  fiercely. He was Heero's comfort, his pillar, his port in the storm. Having
  Quatre near him always made Heero feel better. Heero's thoughts were cleaner,
  his stress level decrease, and he just generally felt happier when he touched
  his First. It was there, to a lesser extent, with Dorothy, too. Heero
  wondered if it would work with Harry. It probably would, eventually.

  "I'm worried. You?" Quatre asked. The two were locked together, their arms
  binding them in the way of very young children. It made a weird kind of
  sense, as they were about to go through something usually only eleven year-
  olds did.

  "Of course not," Heero said. "I always act like I'm on a rickety boat in a
  hurricane while waiting for a life-changing act." He laughed and hugged
  Quatre harder. What if they were separated? "We'll be okay." What if they
  weren't?

  The door opened, and Heero heard a great din from the Great Hall. A stern-
  looking woman--she had earlier been introduced to them as Professor
  McGonagall--walked in and smiled a thin smile.

  "We're ready for you," she said, waving them from the room.

  They filed out into the Great Hall. They were on a dais, a stool and the
  Sorting Hat--Heero knew how they were Sorted because one of Quatre's sister's
  husbands went to Hogwarts--stood in the center. Behind it was a long table.
  Many teachers sat there, as did Professor Dumbledore.

  When he saw Heero's family enter, Professor Dumbledore stood. The Great Hall
  fell silent as the students listened for him to speak. Dumbledore took a
  breath and smiled, his eyes twinkling.

  "As many of you know," Dumbledore began, speaking loud enough for all to
  hear, "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry accepts all manners of
  students. We pride ourselves on attracting new students, especially transfer
  students from the colonies. I know you all will welcome the new transfers and
  treat them as true Hogwarts students.

  "Let the Sorting begins!" Dumbledore finished with a flare and sat down,
  eliciting a disapproving look from Professor McGonagall.

  "Catalonia, Dorothy," McGonagall read from a scroll.

  Dorothy left the cluster the three had made--Heero and Quatre let go of each
  other before they walked into the Great Hall, but they still stood close
  together--and walked steadily to the stool. The hat was barely on her head
  when it yelled out, "Slytherin!" Dorothy smirked and strolled over to the
  last table. She sat down daintily beside the blonde from the train--the one
  with Veelaish hair--as the entire table cheered.

  Then, it was Quatre's turn. He flashed Heero a nervous grin before walking to
  the stool and sitting the hat on his head. /Gryffindor! Gryffindor!// Heero
  chanted in his head. Maybe if he thought it enough, it would come true.
  Quatre had his fingers crossed--maybe he was thinking the same thing.
  Briefly, a scowl passed over Quatre's face, then it brightened as the hat
  yelled out, "Gryffindor!" Quatre practically jumped off the stool and ran to
  the Gryffindor table, barely remembering to take off the hat.

  Heero's stomach lurched, part with happiness and part with fear. What if he
  got put in Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or even Slytherin? He wouldn't be able to
  sleep at night without Quatre there. He'd have to sneak into Quatre's dorm
  room every night. He might get caught. What if he was? He might get expelled
  and never see his brothers again. Well, that solved it. Heero *had* to be in
  Gryffindor.

  "Yuy, Heero," McGonagall said, and Heero stalked up to the Sorting Hat. He
  put it on his head.

  /Well, well, well//, the Sorting Hat said. Kind of. Heero jumped a bit as the
  voice entered his mind directly. He had been warned about this by Marty--
  Quatre's third oldest sister's husband--but knowing it and feeling it were
  two different things. It was strange. /I see here that someone has his mind
  made up. You certainly do have the qualities of a Gryffindor: quick to leap
  before you look--quite literally--and that whole "brave" thing. You would do
  very well there, indeed.//

  /Yes!// Heero thought, desperate to make sure the hat knew he should be in
  Gryffindor. /I've done things that would make lesser men cower in fear. I've-
  -//

  /However//, the hat said, /your reason for wanting Gryffindor makes me
  consider you Hufflepuff material.//

  /Hufflepuff?// Heero scoffed. Why would he want to be in Hufflepuff? They
  were leftovers, the people none of the other Houses would take. They were--

  /Loyal. Hufflepuffs are loyal. Much as you are to Mr. Winner and will soon be
  to Mr. Potter. Your loyalty outweighs all your other qualities. Why, you've
  even put your life in danger to save Mr. Winner's--//

  /By being brave!// Heero interjected. He knew it was rude, but the hat had to
  see that Heero belonged in

  "Gryffindor!"

  /What?// Oh, gods, he'd been made a Gryffindor. He was actually a Gryffindor!
  Heero's face broke out into a smile. He stood up, at the last minute
  remembering to take off the hat, and walked over to the Gryffindor--*his*--
  table. Heero sat beside Quatre and pretty much screamed. He was drowned out
  by his new Housemates, who were all yelling, "Gryffindor! Gryffindor!" Heero
  looked at Quatre, and together, they decided to join in.

  "Gryffindor! Gryffindor!"

  ***

  After the Opening Feast--*long* after--Harry and the other seventh years were
  in the Gryffindor common room. The underclassmen had all gone to bed, and
  Harry knew that he should, too. But he didn't want the reminder from Hermione
  that would come in five, four, three, two--

  "It's late, guys. We really should go to bed," Hermione said, predictably. As
  always, the other seventh years grumbled and complained. The only two who
  didn't were Heero and Quatre. And that was only because they were new and
  didn't know her yet.

  Harry was oddly happy that they were in his House and year. He'd known them
  less than a day, but for some reason, it seemed like much longer. Harry was
  as comfortable around the two of them as he was around most of his friends.
  More so than some.

  The others seemed to like them, too--the thought made Harry's heart swell
  with pride, which was weird because he didn't have anything about which to be
  proud. It wasn't like he knew much more about them than the others--
  especially after Neville recounted the "Train Incident." Harry told Ron and
  Hermione about it earlier, but Ron just couldn't hear it enough. Ron's
  favorite thing was a trampled Slytherin.

  Lavender and Parvati couldn't take their eyes from Heero and Quatre. Heero
  would move, and Lavender's eyes would follow. Quatre would shift, and Parvati
  would stare. Harry almost expected the girls to bore a hole through Quatre
  and Heero. Maybe just through their robes. Harry was sure that if either of
 them knew a spell to do that, they would in a heartbeat. He resolved to make
  sure they never found one, if it existed.

  "Her-mi-o-ne," Ron whined. "I think we're all old enough to know for
  ourselves when we should to go to bed."

  "Then you should know, oh great Prefect Ron, that all students are required
  to be in bed by eleven p.m. It is now past one. You figure it out," Hermione
  snapped. She stood up and turned to leave. She seemed to change her mind
  because she turned back around quite suddenly. "Heero, Quatre, it was nice to
  meet you." Hermione left the common room to go to the girls' dorm.

  "Yeah," Lavender echoed breathlessly. She licked her lips. Had Harry not
  known her very well--and had he not been on the gay end of the bi spectrum--
  he might have thought it was very sexy. "It was *so* nice meet you both."
  Funny thing was, she only looked at Heero.

  Parvati repeated what Lavender said; the only difference was her eyes were
  glued to Quatre. Those two acted more like twins than Parvati and her sister
  Padma. Sometimes even more so than Fred and George Weasley, and that was
  almost impossible to do--if the Weasley twins were any more identical, they'd
  be clones.

  The two girls left the common room. Harry supposed that if they didn't,
  Hermione might have a monster lecture in store for them. Harry turned to tell
  the guys that they should go to bed--or at the very least, to their room--
  lest Hermione come down to find them all still up. Quatre beat him to it.

  "Well, I'm going to bed," Quatre said. "You coming, Heero?" Heero nodded and
  stood, stretching. It was such a fluid motion, it brought the image of a cat
  to Harry's mind. Harry looked around and caught Dean staring at Heero. He
  turned his head away when he noticed Harry looking at him.

  "We should probably go up to bed, too," Dean said a little sheepishly. "Don't
  you think, Seamus?"

  Seamus, who had been staring off into space, blinked in response.

  "Guess that means yeah," Dean chuckled. He grabbed Seamus' arm and led him up
  the stairs, while the rest of the boys trooped behind them.

  Harry's room was the same one he'd shared with the others since his first
  year. It, like the rest of the Gryffindor arena, was in a tower. This year,
  though the room was still the same, it had been expanded, so it could
  accommodate seven boys instead of five. The positions of the beds had been
  changed, too. The room was circular, and the beds were always arranged in a
  circle. This year was no exception. But whereas before Harry's bed was beside
  Ron's, this year it was between Neville's and Dean's. For some reason, their
  beds were arranged alphabetically. Going clockwise from the door, their beds
  were Seamus, Neville, Harry, Dean, Ron, Quatre, and Heero. Harry wasn't sure
  if he liked the new setup, but he supposed he could always trade with
  somebody if it was too bad.

  Harry changed in to his pajamas and got into bed. He lay down on the soft
  mattress and drifted off into sleep.

  ***

  Harry jerked as he awoke. He couldn't remember why, exactly he was awake, but
  he knew it would come back to him soon. And there it was: he'd had a
  nightmare. Harry hated nightmares. Ever since he began having them, back in
  fourth year, Harry hated them. Especially the ones that came true.

  At first, these were just the "visions," or whatever, that he had of
  Voldemort. Harry would see him torture some innocent Muggle, maybe use the
  *Cruciatus* curse on one or two of his inept followers. The summer after his
  fifth year, however, Harry began dreaming true, even when Voldemort was
  nowhere in the dream. He dreamed of Lucius Malfoy's escape from Azkaban, saw
  how the dementors just let him pass on by. Harry dreamed of Hagrid's brother
  trying to escape from the Forbidden Forest, and the centaurs' attempts to cut
  him down. When Harry went back and checked the times of those and other
  events, he found that they always happened as he dreamed them.

  Sometimes, Harry was awake when he "dreamed true"--he called it Seeing
  Sideways because he always saw the event as it happened, just from another
  person's eyes. When he Saw Sideways, the visions were never that detailed,
  and Harry never felt as connected as he did when he dreamed them. Harry
  didn't tell anybody his dream visions not always involving Voldemort, and he
  certainly didn't tell them when he started Seeing Sideways, but he knew what
  it meant. He looked it up in the library. He, Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived,
  was an Oracle. He knew that's what he was because an Oracle's predictions
  were never wrong. A Seer--even a true Seer--might get certain details wrong
  or even, occasionally, See the event wrong entirely. Harry was never wrong,
  not even down to the eye missing on the orange-haired doll.

  And that's the main reason Harry hated nightmares. It wasn't because they
  were scary--even though they were--it was because, more likely than not, they
  were happening as he dreamt it. Which meant, by the time he woke up, it was
  too late. It was too late for little Sara McDonald and her father.

  Harry curled up in a ball. He wished someone would come crawl into bed with
  him, hold him and comfort him until the pain went away, but it had never
  happened before, and he didn't expect it to happen now. Harry knew that
  neither Ron nor Neville would mind too terribly much if he got into their
  bed, but he didn't want to bother them. They had their own problems.

  Harry wrapped his arms around his knees, brought them up under his chin, and
  cried.

  ***

  Quatre could feel the waves of pain rolling off Harry. He longed to comfort
  his brother, but he knew that it was not yet his place to do so. He would
  probably become suspicious if Quatre were to attempt to climb in his bed and
  hold him. To get rid of some of his urges, Quatre hugged Heero. Thankfully,
  he was asleep and didn't seem to be feeling Harry's pain quite as strongly as
  Quatre.

  Quatre and Heero were both in Quatre's bed. They had come to a consensus
  after first seeing the bed placements, that they would not sleep in Heero's
  bed unless absolutely necessary--it was too risky. It being by the door,
  anybody who got into the common room could just come and grab Heero with
  little to no trouble. The bed Quatre really wanted was Harry's or the red-
  headed kid's--Ron's. It was far enough away from the door to give an illusion
  of safety, but it wasn't under the window, either. Quatre would feel that
  Heero was safe in either of those beds.

  Heero and Quatre began sleeping together--as in actually *sleeping*--in the
  middle of the war, whenever they weren't roomed with their usual partners.
  The first time they met, Heero died. He self-destructed his Gundam in order
  to protect the colonies and give the other pilots a chance to get away. That
  day, Quatre felt something he had never felt before. He felt Heero's death
  and the great chasm of pain that came with it. Quatre's chest felt like it
  was ripped out, like his heart lay beating on the controls in the cockpit.
  Quatre hated the feeling and hoped it never happened again. As luck would
  have it, it did, and every one of those times, Quatre knew why he felt like
  he did. But it was never as bad as that first time. The jubilation he felt
  when Heero came back--brought to life by a sort of magical override to his
  wards--was never as joyous and exhilarating and happy as it was then.

  At the time, Quatre didn't even know what he was feeling, only that he was
  feeling something and it *hurt*. It wasn't until his first joint mission with
  Heero that he was even sure that Heero had been the cause of his pain. When
  Quatre saw Heero, he knew, for his heart danced the cha-cha in his chest, and
  his face burst into the biggest smile it ever had--he even strained some
  muscles. That was when Quatre knew, knew that Heero was *family*. At the
  time, Quatre didn't know exactly how they were related--if, indeed, they even
  were--but he knew that he loved Heero. Loved him as a brother. They slept in
  the same bed ever since, if it was at all possible.

  Tonight, Heero waited until he was sure that their dormmates were asleep
  before sneaking over. It was two in the morning before Heero climbed into bed
  with Quatre. Quatre lay awake the entire time he was waiting for Heero--it
  was almost impossible for him to get to sleep without his brother, anymore.
  Quatre wondered if he would ever be as close with Harry as he now was with
  Heero. And, if he was, if his and Heero's relationship would suffer.

  "No, please," Heero moaned in his sleep. He flopped around before finally
  throwing his leg over Quatre. "Not the *box*."

  Heero was having a nightmare. Quatre supposed it was the night for
  nightmares. First, Harry, who he couldn't do anything about. Now, Heero, who
  he certainly could.

  Quatre rubbed Heero's back, feeling the jagged scar. Death wounds never fully
  healed, no matter what magic was used. "Shh," Quatre whispered, trying to be
  quiet so as not to disturb Harry or wake the others. "It's just a dream.
  You're not alone. I love you, and I'll never leave you." Heero settled down,
  and Quatre relaxed, not even aware of the tension in his body until it was
  gone.

  "We should go to him," Heero said. Startled, Quatre looked down to see
  whether Heero was awake or talking in his sleep. Heero looked back at him.

  "Sorry I woke you," Quatre said, truly meaning the words. He hadn't wanted
  Heero to wake up, merely for his nightmare to be changed to a pleasant dream.
  The pain Harry was sending off wasn't nearly as bad if one was asleep. Quatre
  didn't want Heero to have to feel that.

  "We can tell him we're Empaths if he asks how we knew," Heero said. "Or that
  he's really loud. He just shouldn't be alone right now."

  Quatre nodded. "You're right, he shouldn't. Let's go."

  The two brothers made their way to their other brother's and climbed in on
  either side of him. If Harry was surprised to see them, he didn't show it. He
  latched onto the offered comfort as they soothed him back to sleep.

  Selune
  =============================================================================


***** Chapter 4: Classes, Take One *****
Chapter 4: Classes, Take One




  Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter--the characters, setting,
  plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she
  decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing--the characters, setting, plot,
  everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

  Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of
  the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

  Rating: NC17 Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

  Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five
  heroes--the Gundam pilots--disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them--
  pilots 02, 03, and 05--reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as
  students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months
  after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and
  they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world--especially one
  Harry Potter--will never be the same.

  Peace, Love, and Family: The Story of the Vanuli Three Chapter 4: Classes,
  Take One

  Harry woke up--for the first time in a long time--refreshed and rejuvenated.
  After his one vision, Harry's dreams were all nice--comforting and pleasant.
  There was a presence in his dreams. Actually, there were two. Whenever
  Harry's dream would start to go bad, they would fight against the nightmares.
  They made his dreams better than they ever were before. The presences were
  bright and glowing, and vaguely humanoid. They felt familiar, like Harry
  should know who they were, but he couldn't quite place them.

  Harry showered. By the time he finished, he had forgotten about the presences
  his his dreams.

  Harry went down to breakfast, where Professor McGonagall--Head of Gryffindor
  House--was passing out there schedules.

  "Oh, damn!" Ron exclaimed from beside Harry. Several heads glanced up and
  scowled at him. Hermione was one--she didn't approve cussing except in
  extreme situations. McGonagall shot Ron a disapproving look, but she didn't
  say anything about it, just moved down to table to hand out the rest of the
  schedules.

  Harry started to turn to Ron, then changed his mind. He looked at his own
  schedule and saw why Ron was so upset. They had Potions and Care of Magical
  Creatures with the Slytherins--again. *And* they had Trelawny for
  Divinations. Harry knew Ron was hoping for Firenze.

  "Yeah, that is bad luck," Harry said. He stuffed a muffin into his mouth. Ron
  was working himself into "rage mode", and Harry wanted to be finished eating
  by the time he got there. No such luck.

  "I mean, really!" Ron said, shocking Seamus, who had fallen asleep in his
  cereal. "I didn't even *want* to take Potions. I failed the O.W.L. horribly--
  on purpose, mind you--just so that I wouldn't have to see the greasy git and
  his precious Slytherins!"

  "Oh, Ron," Hermione said from the other side of the table. "You know
  Professor Dumbledore made everybody take Potions. It's a necessary skill that
  we will all need in the future."

  Hermione was right. Snape usually only let students who made an "O" on their
  O.W.L.s into his upper-level classes. Of the three of them, only Hermione
  made that. However, due to Voldemort's resurrection and the subsequent danger
  everyone was in, the headmaster required Professor Snape to teach Potions to
  *all* the sixth and seventh year students. But only those who made that "O"--
  or improved enough over the course of two years that Snape deemed them good
  enough--would take it as a N.E.W.T. come June. Everyone else would take a
  normal final exam. As Harry still wanted to be an Auror, he hoped that he was
  allowed to take Potions as a N.E.W.T.

  Harry looked at his watch--it was his birthday present from Remus Lupin, the
  Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher--and choked on a muffin. "If you don't
  leave RIGHT NOW, you'll be late for class," it read. It was a digital and
  always had a new way to tell Harry that he was late. Harry swore under his
  breath and grabbed more muffins.

  "Ron, we should go, or Trelawny'll kill us," Harry said, shoving at his
  friend to get moving. Trelawny's classroom was in the North Tower--if they
  ran, they just might make it on time. "On second thought, maybe she won't
  kill us. Maybe she'll just describe--in excruciating detail--how we're going
  to die of spider bites."

  Ron paled, but he hurried up. Harry hated using Ron's arachnophobia against
  him, but they were running out of time. Harry *hated* to be late, probably
  because he always was.

  "C'mon," Harry said. Ron gathered the rest of his stuff, and they left the
  Great Hall.

  ***

  Heero was bored. He came to Divinations hoping to learn something, but all he
  got was a charlatan who levelled death threats at his brother. She was
  teaching them psychometry, a form of divination where one read the history of
  an object by touching it. Apparently, this had been learned a couple of years
  ago, but Trelawny wanted to refresh their memory of it, as it was related--
  a little--to their next unit, cheiromancy.

  Heero knew Quatre must be having a blast--he was, after all, an Oracle of the
  Past--but Heero, himself, wasn't having much luck. Being an Oracle of the
  Future, he couldn't see the past, no matter how hard he tried. Every object
  Heero touched showed him nothing; however, he did see the future of his
  classmates many times as they touched him to pass the objects. So far, Heero
  saw that Lavender was going to trip over a bucket of slime--set out by Peeves
  the Poltergeist--Ron was going to get flustered asking out Hermione--who
  would decline--and Harry would have another nightmare, which would actually
  be a vision of the present. Heero made a little mental not on that, so he and
  Quatre could help Harry again.

  Other than the vision of Harry, Heero saw nothing of interest--luckily, he
  was touched so rarely in the class that he wasn't overwhelmed with visions of
  his classmates' futures. He saw nothing at all from the quill that supposedly
  belonged to Catherine the Great. Sighing, Heero passed the quill along the
  line. He took notes on the insights he gained from it--basically, nothing--
  and accepted the next artifact from Quatre. He was pretty much asking for
  Professor Trelawny to come swooping down on him.

  And she did. Trelawny noticed that he wasn't displaying the *enthusiasm* the
  others were--who, except for Quatre, Lavender, and Parvati, were as bad as or
  worse than Heero when it came to scrying into the past. Heero held the brooch
  to his forehead and pretended not to notice his professor.

  "So, Mr. Yuy does not feel the need to take notes," Madame Trelawny said,
  narrowing her eyes. At least, Heero thought she narrowed her eyes. There was
  so much smoke in the room from all the burning incense, he wasn't sure.
  "Since Mr. Yuy knows everything about psychometry already, perhaps he can
  enlighten the rest of us?"

  Heero lowered the brooch to the table. He looked out of the corner of his eye
  to see Quatre glaring angrily at Trelawny. He smiled at his brother to show
  that he was okay and turned to Trelawny.

  Trelawny didn't like him--he could tell when he walked in the room. Her eyes
  narrowed, her body tensed, and her hands clenched on her desk. Heero didn't
  particularly care if she liked him, didn't care that she could fail him or
  give him detention, didn't care about the upcoming N.E.W.T.s. All Heero cared
  about was winning over Harry.

  So, knowing that Harry didn't like Madame Trelawny--Quatre had a vision last
  night about it, but even if he hadn't, Trelawny's attitude would have given
  it away--he turned his smile upon her. "Well, what do you want to know?"
  Heero asked, silently snickering when her face went red with rage.

  Heero knew--he just knew--that she was about to give him detention or
  something else equally unsavory. Writing a 12-inch essay on the uses of pig
  entrails while divining, maybe. Luckily, the bell rang, and Heero was able to
  escape before she opened her mouth.

  Heero shot out of the classroom before he could be punished and waited for
  Quatre. Heero was the first person out of Trelawny's class, so he had to wait
  a while for Quatre--his brother would probably be apologizing for his
  behavior and trying to explain it. Much of the class congratulated him on
  their way out. The guys all slapped him on the back. Lavender hugged him and
  told him that it would be okay, Madame Trelawny was probably just tired from
  the exhaustion of being such a wonderful Seer and would be more congenial
  tomorrow. Parvati looked at him like he just skinned her cat, made a necklace
  out of it, and showed it to her. Dean's reaction, though, was the most
  outrageous. He got down on one knee, took Heero's hand, and asked Heero to
  marry him.

  Heero was overwhelmed. There was too much touching, too much flesh meeting
  his all at once--too many images. He saw flashes of Ron running after
  Hermione, trying to convince her to date him. He saw Neville, sitting on his
  bed, looking sadly after Harry as he left. Seamus argued with an unidentified
  girl. Lavender painted her nails--she had a bandage on her head. The vision
  of Dean--because he touched Heero longer--was more involved than the others.
  It started out, and he was in a square room. Dean was scared, but Heero
  didn't know why. He realized the reason when Dean looked toward the door.
 Heero was standing there; he had a slightly older boy with him--Roun. Roun
  was hurt, and Heero was pleading with Dean.

  //"Please, don't tell. They'll kill him. You know they will,"// Heero begged,
  holding Roun up.

  //"I won't help you hide him" Dean said, going for the door. "He's a vicious
  animal, and--"//

  Heero was dragged out of the vision by a hand on his back. It soothed and
  protected him. All the other hands went away, and Heero focused on the slight
  pressure, the gentle reassurance of his brother. Heero leaned back into the
  touch and closed his eyes. He said, "Thanks, Quat."

  "Are you okay, Heero?" said a voice that was decidedly Not Quatre. The voice
  belonging to the hand that touched and soothed him was not his oldest
  brother. Heero opened his eyes and looked at his savior. It was Harry. Harry
  helped him. Heero grinned but stepped away from the touch. Quatre had just
  left the Divinations classroom, and his hands were balled at his sides--
  a clear indicator that he was Not Happy, and was probably Jealous as Hell. Of
  his own brother. Which one, though, Heero didn't know.

  "Yeah, Harry, I'm fine," Heero said, gathering the books he'd dropped. "It
  was just a dizzy spell. I get them from time to time. It's a good thing you
  were here, or I might have fallen. Thanks."

  Harry grinned. "No problem," he said. He turned to walk down from the tower,
  then seemed to think better of it. "Do you guys know where the Dungeons are?"
  Both Quatre and Heero shook their heads. "Well, how about I show you?" Then,
  Harry came over to Heero and Quatre, linked arms with them, and took them
  down the steps.

  Heero was reminded of *The Wizard of Oz*. //We're off to see the wizard, the
  wonderful wizard of Oz,// Heero thought. Touching Harry was as natural as
  touching Quatre. Heero couldn't decide if that was good--because Harry was
  his brother, too--or bad--what if Quatre though Heero didn't love him as much
  as he used to?--so he decided on indifferent. For now, at least.

  ***

  Quatre was in his element. He had a cauldron in front of him, ingredients at
  his side, and instructions on the board. He even had Heero as his partner.
  Life could not get any better.

  Except, of course, for it being a completely deplorable class--leave it to
  the humans to mess up a perfectly good day. The teacher--Professor Snape--
  seemed to hate all things Gryffindor, even newbies like himself and Heero.
  The guys from the train--including Duo, Trowa, and that Daemon Rosencrantz he
  still hadn't asked Heero about--turned out to *all* be Slytherins. Malfoy,
  the blonde "leader," picked on Harry as much as he possibly could. Duo and
  Trowa completely ignored Quatre and Heero. Quatre was secretly pleased with
  this--the more Duo ignored Heero, the sooner Heero would move on--which, of
  course, he would never mention to Heero. Rosencrantz kept looking up from his
  work, over at Heero, back to his work, and back to Heero. Not knowing why was
  driving Quatre insane!

  Not to mention the fact that Quatre felt extremely jealous of Heero and
  Harry's earlier interaction! Quatre Winner was the first person to admit that
  he was completely jealous about and overprotective of his family. He almost
  lost Heero so many times since they found each other that it would be
  bordering on insanity not to worry about him. However, in this situation,
  Quatre didn't even know which one he was jealous of! Was he jealous of Harry,
  for comforting Heero when he wasn't there? Was he jealous of Heero, for
  bonding--consciously and subconsciously--with Harry? Did he hate it that he
  didn't have--or soon wouldn't have--Heero all to himself anymore? Or was he
  jealous that he hadn't spent any alone time with Harry, hadn't bonded with
  his middle brother?

  Heero handed Quatre the diced bicorn, and he checked the color of the potion.
  Red--it was time to put it in. Quatre added the ingredient and let the
  process of potion-making reassure him. It did as nothing else--except for
  Heero and, Quatre suspected, Harry--could.

  They were making *Amitto Memoria*, "to lose memory." It was the Potions
  equivalent of the Obliviate spell. Almost. *Amitto Memoria* made its victim
  forget only certain types of memories. If someone put in a piece of flesh,
  the drinker would forget all sexual thoughts, feeling, and memories of the
  person to whom the flesh belonged. If one added tears, the same thing would
  happen, only for all emotionally-charged memories. For instance, a person
  could forget the death of a loved one if he gathered the tears of his dearly
  departed and drank it with the potion. Blood worked for all violent memories.
  Bone was good for humiliating ones. Most of the other body parts--hair,
  fingernails, saliva, etc.--were usually for more trivial things. It was
  *technically* a Dark Arts potion, but as this was a time of war in Britain,
  certain allowances were made so that the students would know how to protect
  themselves.

  In any case, Quatre loved brewing potions. He put the lasat ingredient in and
  let the cauldron simmer. He checked it, double checked it, triple checked it.
  It was perfect.

  Quatre sent Heero to get a vial to put it in. Heero came back, and Quatre
  poured the potion into the vial and labeled it with the contents, class
  period, and their names. It wasn't that Quatre didn't trust Heero to do it
  correctly; it was that he wanted to do it himself. He even took it to Snape's
  desk. Then they were finished. They still had almost half of the class left.

  Quatre felt himself getting bored, but rather than give into it, he began to
  look around the room. It amazed him how many potions were in the room. He
  tried to count them all and couldn't. Heero probably could, but then, he
  wouldn't be sidetracked by questions about what went in the potions and
  whatnot. Heero was more of a Transfigurations guy; he didn't worry too much
  about potions. Quatre wondered if Harry liked Potions--all of Quatre's
  visions seemed to point him towards more of a Charms enthusiast.

  "Mr. Winner!" someone said loudly into his ear. Quatre jumped and looked to
  see who shouted. It was Professor Snape. He looked sour--more so than he did
  at the beginning of class, and that was saying something since, at that time,
  he looked as though he'd sucked on a tree full of lemons. "It seems as though
  you know all there is to know about *Amitto Memoria*, as you've finished with
  thirty minutes left of class." //Forty-five's more like it.// "So why don't
  you tell the rest of us how to make it?"

  Quatre knew he heard something similar to that earlier. But when was it? Oh,
  yeah. Divinations. Bat-lady cracked down on Heero almost as hard as Snape was
  now doing to Quatre. He decided to take a page out of Heero's book: be rude,
  but tell the truth. His only worry, as far as getting into trouble went, was
  not being expelled. As long as he didn't tell lies or break too many rules,
  Quatre figured Professor Dumbledore would keep him and Heero at Hogwarts.
  After all, the headmaster knew what they were--species-wise, not that they
  were two of a set of three--and that they were here to get to know their
  brother. Dumbledore was always a softie when it came to family, so he
  probably wouldn't kick them out for anything but a major infraction--like the
  purposeful murder of another student. Still, Quatre wasn't going to push his
  luck. Much.

  "The instructions are on the board," Quatre said to Professor Snape, pointing
  to the chalkboard at the front of the class, "and the ingredients are in the
  book," Quatre pointed to his textbook, *999 Dark Potions for the Light* by
  Claudia DeFaux. "I'm sure even the stupidest of seventh years can manage to
  *read* it, if not brew it."

  "Mr. Winner, if you are suggesting..." Snape began.

  "I am suggesting, *sir*, that your students, my classmates, do not need *me*
  to tell them how to brew this potion." Quatre smiled sweetly. "They have you
  for that."

  Professor Snape was taken aback by that before beginning anew. "Tell me, Mr.
  Winner, how it was that you brewed the *Amitto Memoria* correctly on your
  first attempt? I, myself, was twenty-three before I was even allowed to
  attempt it, and then it was a little weak. Only erased memories up to twelve
  days old. So, Mr. Winner, how did you make it right on your first try?"

  Quatre stared at Professor Snape. He blinked. Snape actually thought this was
  his first time making this? "Professor," he said, very slowly as if to a
  small child, "I've made this potion many times before. As hard as Claudia
  worked us, I daresay I could make it in my sleep. Heero, too. And he's just
  *awful* at potions."

  "So, you're saying, Mr. Winner, that you, with willful intent, brewed a Dark
  Potion before the legal age?" Snape asked, sounding delighted--if it could be
  called delight--at the prospect of his student committing a major crime.

  "In Britain, I guess," Quatre admitted. "But I wasn't in Britain at the time.
  I was on L1. The legal age to brew this there is twelve, if one has proper
  supervision."

  Snape's face fell--he caught it quickly, but it fell just the same--and
  Quatre looked over at Heero to smile at him. To share in all the brotherly
  love that they had. But Heero wasn't looking at Quatre. He was looking at
  Duo.

  "Wait a minute," Snape said, turning back to Quatre. "You said Claudia. As in
  DeFaux?"

  Selune


  =============================================================================


***** Chapter 5: Classes Take Two *****
Chapter 5: Classes, Take Two




  Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter--the characters, setting,
  plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she
  decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing--the characters, setting, plot,
  everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

  Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of
  the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

  Rating: NC17 Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

  Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five
  heroes--the Gundam pilots--disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them--
  pilots 02, 03, and 05--reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as
  students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months
  after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and
  they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world--especially one
  Harry Potter--will never be the same.

  Peace, Love, and Family: The Story of the Vanuli Three Chapter 5: Classes,
  Take Two

  Dorothy Catalonia was not a happy camper. Everything had been going wrong
  since she and her Niamos decided to come to Hogwarts. First, she got
  separated from Quatre and Heero on the train. She eventually found them, but
  that was only because she went into the guys' restroom instead of the girls'.
  It was a good thing she did, though. By the time she got in there, Quatre and
  Duo Maxwell were at each other's throats, Heero lay in the floor--somehow--
  asleep, and Trowa Barton stood apart from all of them, unsure what to do.

  Dorothy quickly diffused the situation, sending Maxwell and Barton away with
  their tails between their legs. Then she had to find out exactly what was
  going on. Eventually, after constant badgering, Quatre wore down and told her
  about Heero's and Duo's past. Every time Quatre touched Duo, apparently,
  their last night together would flash in his mind. Heero must be really hung
  up on it. Dorothy had sighed and told Quatre to wake Heero using any potion
  necessary, as long as it didn't hurt him. They didn't tell Heero what went on
  while he was sleeping.

  Then, later that night, Dorothy got Sorted into a House that her unmet Niamo
  was not in. She'd heard of Slytherin and knew of it; she had figured that she
  would be Sorted there. After all, she was all about power and ambition. Hell,
  she was the *protector* of the three most powerful Vanuli in existence. She
  always made sure to mention that at parties. It made lesser Naiyamas jealous.
  But, seeing as her Niamos were in a different House--a rival House, to boot--
  Dorothy felt it would be rather hard to keep them safe. Especially Harry, who
  neither knew nor trusted her. And especially because she was now expected to
  hate all Gryffindors.

  To top that off, she was now supposed to work with a *human* that oozed
  hatred of Heero from every pore. It took all of her willpower to fight the
  urge to cut off his head. The next time he made a disparaging comment about
  Heero, she couldn't take it any more.

  "Oh, fuck this," Dorothy said, thrusting the gremlin at Rosencrantz. She was
  in Care of Magical Creatures. Thankfully, Slytherin shared it--like Potions--
  with Gryffindor. Dorothy always felt better when her Niamos were in sight. It
  made it easier to spy on--er, watch over them. She made her way over to
  Quatre and Heero amid a sea of shocked stares and much pointing. She plopped
  on the grass beside her "children" and picked up a gremlin. It was still
  fuzzy.

  "So, how have you been?" she asked innocently as the other Gryffindors--as
  well as the Slytherins--looked at them, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Even
  Professor Hagrid stared. It was rude. Dorothy would have said something about
  it, but Heero chose that time to speak.

  "It's been all right," he said, picking up a gremlin of his own. It was
  starting to lose its hair--it tried to bite him. Heero smacked it on the
  head, and it settled down. "The Divinations professor hates me, and Duo won't
  even look in my direction, but our Housemates are all nice. Especially our
  roommates."

  Dorothy took that as in-public Heeroese for what would in private be (while
  jumping up and down), "Yay! Harry likes us! Yay!" She turned to Quatre to
  confirm this translation when her mind went back to what he said first.
  Dorothy would have to discover if that was the truth, and if so, eliminate
  him/her. As for Maxwell, Dorothy agreed with Quatre. Heero was better off
  without him and should never have been involved with him. He would never
  understand, and any attempt to make him understand would, likely, hurt Heero
  more than he already was. No, Heero needed to get over Maxwell. Maybe if she
  set him up with a nice Veela? Veela were much more powerful than humans. They
  smelled better, too.

  "Who is your Divinations teacher?" she asked, her voice leaving no room for
  argument. They would tell her.

  "Trelawny," Quatre said, probably knowing what she planned to do. Most
  likely, he would be relieved that he wouldn't have to deal with it alone.
  "You know, I think Professor Snape hates me, too."

  Dorothy let go of the gremlin--its hair was falling off in big lumps, and
  frankly, it was gross--and turned her full attention on Quatre. She knew of
  her Head of House's biases--basically, he held all the ones that the students
  did--and she heard him completely ripping into Quatre before lunch. How many
  teachers was she going to have to take out? They really should have stuck
  with Dorothy's original plan: grab Harry and run with him.

  "At least, he *did* hate me, until I told him that Claudia DeFaux was my
  sister and tutored me in Potions this year. Then he just seemed envious. I
  really should owl ole' Claud and thank her," Quatre said.

  Dorothy simmered down. Quatre really should know better than to say things
  like "hate" in reference to how somebody felt about him or Heero. It always
  set her off. Then, it was just a hop, skip, and a jump to a dead body. Heero
  learned the hard way that an angry Dorothy was not desirable when he snuck
  out of the base to go to a party. Dorothy guessed Quatre didn't learn from
  the experience. She was glad that she wasn't going to have to kill Professor
  Snape, though. She rather liked him--he was snarky and sour.

  Dorothy heard footsteps coming their way from the Slytherin territory of the
  fenced-in yard. She groaned. //I swear, if that's Rosencrantz, I'm throwing
  two hairless gremlins on him and spraying him with a water hose. I'll have to
  conjure one, but it'll be worth it.//

  Thankfully, it was not Rosencrantz. Well, he was there, but he wasn't alone.
  At the lead of all of the other Slytherins--Crabbe, Goyle, Bulstrode,
  Parkinson, Rosencrantz, even Barton and Maxwell--walked the boy who had just
  last night introduced himself as head Slytherin, Draco Malfoy. Personally,
  Dorothy couldn't understand why the others followed him. He was cowardly and
  weak-willed. He would back down from a fight as soon as his opponent showed
  his teeth. He was not a leader. He was...

  Walking towards Harry. The stupid, slimy, wretch was going to try to
  intimidate *her* Niamo. Well, not now, not ever. Even though she knew Harry
  could take care of himself against Malfoy--after all, Malfoy was only human--
  she still wanted to be there close by, just in case. She got up and motioned
  for Quatre and Heero to stay put.

  Malfoy and his gang were on one side, Harry and the Gryffindors were on the
  other. They stood facing each other, Harry and Malfoy in the middle of their
  respective groups, their seconds fanning out around them. A tall, red-haired
  guy named Weasley and a bushy-haired girl named Granger stood on either side
  of Harry, signifying that they were next in rank. Barton and Maxwell did the
  same thing to Malfoy. It surprised Dorothy to no end that these children knew
  Vanulian dueling practices. If they truly did, then Dorothy knew what came
  next. She wasn't going to let that happen.

  Dorothy pushed her way through the crowd, shoving her way past the lower-
  ranking Slytherins and Gryffindors. She hoped that Quatre and Heero had
  enough sense to stay back. A quick look back proved that she was not so
  lucky--they were following very close behind her. She sighed in exasperation
  and stepped up her pace. If she moved fast enough, she could render the
  situation neutral before Heero and Quatre got in the path of danger.

  Dorothy stepped between Malfoy and Harry just as they raised their wands.
  "What seems to be the problem here?" she asked, favoring Malfoy with a harsh
  scowl. She turned to Harry, saw that he was unharmed, and turned back to
  Malfoy. She tore into him--verbally, this time. He might no be so lucky after
  his next attempt to hurt what was hers. "Are you stupid, Malfoy? Attacking
  Potter in broad daylight! With all of his friends to support him and report
  you, *and* with Professor Hagrid set to come back any minute! Did you really
  think it would accomplish anything? That attacking Potter might get you
  anything more than dead?" Malfoy started to protest, but Dorothy interrupted
  him. "Don't say anything. I may not have been here long, but even *I* know
  that *you* are a disgrace to Slytherin!"

  Dorothy stormed out of the crowd. This time, she was happy about Quatre and
  Heero following her. She was shaking with anger and the need to kill all who
  hurt her Niamos. It was hard to hold that in--it was an instinct built into
  her caste--to not walk up to Malfoy and turn his bones to mush. It would be
  so easy. And satisfying. She could almost hear the *squish* now.

  Dorothy felt a wave of warmth and knew that Heero was touching her. He knew
  just how she got when her Niamos were threatened--he'd had to stop her from
 killing a *lot* of people, including his Healer--and he knew how to calm her
  down. It took him a while to be able to do it correctly, but now he mastered
  his touch. It soothed her instantly.

  "Thanks," she said as she felt all of her aggression melt away.

  "Welcome," Heero said. He stopped rubbing circles on her back. He looked back
  and winced. Dorothy looked, too. Everyone was leaving--class was over.

  "We have to go," Quatre said. He flashed a small smile at Dorothy. "We'll get
  in touch with you later."

  Dorothy hugged her Niamos hard. She didn't know when she would next be able
  to see them, and it saddened her. If anybody hurt them, Dorothy would be very
  angry, indeed.

  ***

  Harry hoped his next class--Defense Against the Dark Arts--would be more
  normal than the others were. The others had been *weird*. Especially Care of
  Magical Creatures. A Slytherin never approached a Gryffindor in friendship.
  No Gryffindor would know what to do if one did. And a Slytherin *never*
  stopped a fight. Not even at the beginning, before the curses started flying.
  They were just too cowardly. And Harry was sure that the girl--Catalonia, he
  thought her name was--checked him out before turning on Malfoy. Weird.

  But here Harry was now, in his almost absolute favorite class--it was second
  only to Charms, and there, it wasn't so much the class he liked but the
  subject. Harry loved Defense Against the Dark Arts because, for the second
  year in a row, Remus Lupin would be teaching it. Professor Lupin (Remus, when
  they were alone or with other friends), was a good friend of Harry's.

  He helped out Harry a lot after fifth year, when Harry's godfather and Remus'
  best friend, Sirius Black, died. Remus helped him come to terms with Sirus'
  death. He even tried to get Harry to believe that it wasn't his fault. Harry
  knew it was--if he had tried looking in his mirror, he would have known
  Sirius was safe and wouldn't have gone after him. Remus also helped Harry
  accept his destiny, helped him accept that he would either be murdered or be
  a murderer.

  In class, Professor Lupin got away from teaching the Unforgivables and Dark
  creatures, which were what he taught in Harry's third year. Instead, he began
  teaching more curses and counter-curses. In short, he was trying to teach
  Harry everything he could before he faced Voldemort again. They both knew--as
  did Ron, Hermione, and Neville--that their next meeting may be his last.
  Sometimes, Remus even gave Harry private tutoring lessons.

  Defense Against the Dark Arts was the one class Harry knew he could always
  count on to be normal.

  Except, of course, that he couldn't. Professor Lupin walked into class. His
  robes weren't ragged anymore because he inherited half of Sirius' fortune
  upon his death; the other half went to Harry. Professor Lupin looked at his
  students and told them to get out their books.

  "For the next few days," Professor Lupin said, "we will be talking about
  Gifts. What they are, who has them, and most importantly, how to defend
  against them."

  Harry got out his quill and parchment. He heard the other Gryffindors do the
  same. Professor Lupin didn't usually teach the first day--he told them what
  he was *going to* teach them in the upcoming year. This was weird.

  "As several of you know--those who continue to take History of Magic--witches
  and wizards used to be more powerful, on average, than we are today,"
  Professor Lupin said. Harry sat up straighter, attentive. He didn't know
  that; he dropped Binns after fifth year. "However, several of the wizards of
  olds' magic is present in some people today. They are called Gifts and are
  extremely rare.

  "There are four Gifts: the Gift of Tears, the Gift of Blood, the Gift of
  Flesh, and the Gift of Bones. Each Gift has a special quality about it, one
  that has to do with its name. For example, a person with the Gift of Flesh
  can cause people to experience intense pain when he touches them."

  Harry thought about that. He wondered what the use of it would be, especially
  when the Cruciatus Curse would work just as well. And you would have to be
  really close to the victim to do it. Harry listened as Professor Lupin
  explained some of the attributes of the others. Someone with the Gift of
  Tears could make their tears acidic. When the tears touched others, they were
  so powerful that they could burn a hole clear through--even somewhere as
  thick and muscular as a thigh. The Gift of Blood could, if a small opening
  was already there (meaning, if you had even a papercut), call all of the
  blood in a person's body out of it. The Gift of Bones could break every bone
  in another's body, even from a distance. Harry thought it sounded rather
  gruesome.

  "Does anyone have any questions so far?" Professor Lupin asked. Several hands
  shot up. Hermione's, of course. Harry wasn't surprised to see that. She
  always wanted to make sure she understood the material correctly, which she
  almost always did. Harry had only ever heard her be wrong once while in
  class. Harry was surprised, though, at the number of other hands raised.
  Ron's. Dean's. Neville's. Heero's, too, but for some reason, Quatre was
  trying to make him put it down.

  Professor Lupin--probably trying to put him out of his misery--called on
  Heero.

  "It's a stupid question," Quatre growl-whispered to Heero. Harry sat close
  enough to them to just barely hear it. "Don't ask."

  Heero shook off Quatre's arm and looked at Professor Lupin. "Everything
  you've said about the Gifts so far have been bad. Why? Surely there must be
  *something* good about them?"

  Professor looked as stunned as Harry felt. A Dark Art--as that is what it
  surely was, otherwise Professor Lupin wouldn't be teaching about it--being
  positive, in any respect, was unheard of. Harry couldn't think of anything
  good that the Gifts could be used for; at least, not as Professor Lupin
  described them.

  But Heero continued. "Because I can think of several positive aspects of the
  Gifts." Everyone was staring at Heero now--except for Quatre, who's head was
  shaking in his hands--but he didn't seem to care. "Take the Gift of Flesh,
  for example. The owner can heal any flesh wounds he or she has, *as well* as
  those of another person's, if he can touch it. The Gift of Bones. A person
  with that can, almost painlessly, regrow bones. The two of them together
  could remake entire body parts--arms, hands, legs. And the Gift of Tears.
  Sure, they can be used as poisons. They can also be used as medicines. I even
  know of one case where they brought someone back from almost-death. Without
  the Gift, he surely would have died. The Gift of Blood. Someone with that
  power can almost instantly clot a cut. Think of the advantages of that."

  "Are you quite done?" Professor Lupin asked good-naturedly. He smiled at
  Heero. "I am aware of the good qualities of the Gifts. Thank you for
  reminding me to speak about them."

  Professor Lupin went to the board and listed some of the positive attributes
  of the Gifts. Harry didn't pay attention; he was too busy staring at Heero.
  How did Heero--and Harry supposed, Quatre--know that much about the Gifts?
  Harry was still thinking about it when Ron told him class was over.

  Everyone left to go back to the common room--Lupin was the last class on
  Mondays--but Harry lingered around. He wanted to talk to Remus. Harry hung
  out by the door, waiting for Remus to notice that he was still in there.

  Harry heard quiet talking right outside the door.

  "Why did you do that?" one voice asked. Harry identified it as belonging to
  Quatre. He figured Quatre was talking to Heero. "These people aren't stupid.
  They'll figure us out in a second with you giving them clues like that."

  Harry's suspicions were answered when the other person began talking.

  "Quat, I'm sorry," Heero said. He certainly sounded it, his voice low and
  whining. "I just had to make sure they knew--that *Harry* knew--that the
  Gifts aren't inherently bad."

  "Well, you've certainly done that," Quatre answered hotly. "Let's go, before
  someone comes and overhears us. God, you're so careless sometimes."

  Harry heard footsteps leading away and turned around. He rested the back of
  his head against the cold stone wall and thought. Why would Heero want Harry,
  in particular, to know that the Gifts could be used for good? He needed to
  think about this some more. Harry turned to leave when Remus finally noticed
  him.

  "Something you needed, Harry?" Remus asked distractedly, shuffling through
  some papers on his desk.

  "Yeah," Harry said. "I just wanted to talk to you about tutoring."

  He promised himself that he would think about Quatre and Heero later. Who
  they were, what they wanted with him, and why. Now, though, he'd just work on
  his survival skills.

  Selune
  =============================================================================


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