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Harry Potter and the Secret Link	By : LeAnnRingo Category: Harry Potter Crossovers > General - Misc Views: 3407 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Author's Notes:

Someone has inquired as to why the G-boys are still in
possession of their Gundams when said Gundams were supposed to
have been destroyed after the Mariemeia Incident (aka Endless
Waltz). That’s actually easy to answer; my fic starts off in
the summer of AC 196. That’s before Endless Waltz (which is
set during Christmas, AC 196), while the Gundam pilots still
own their Gundams. If you remember, in the beginning of
Endless Waltz, all of the Gundam pilots save Wufei had planned
to send their Gundams to the surface of the sun in order to
destroy them. They didn’t actually destroy their Gundams until
the end of the movie. That means they still had their Gundams
for a full year after the end of the first war; at least, I
have a vague recollection of Lady Une commenting that the
first war had reached its end sometime around Christmas of AC
195. It was such a climatic event that a lot of people forgot
to celebrate Christmas.

Basically, Endless Waltz hasn’t happened yet; in fact, it’s
not going to. In this fic, the Earth Sphere Alliance is
practically demanding that the Gundam pilots be punished for
their acts of terrorism, when in the Endless Waltz, it’s very
clear that the Gundam pilots were cleared of all charges due
to their war crimes.

~*~*~*~*Harry Potter and the Secret Link*~*~*~*~

~*~*~*~*Capricious Purple Clarity*~*~*~*~

~*~*~*~*Chapter Seven*~*~*~*~

It was a big day for Quidditch practice, proven by none other
than Katie Bell as she methodically drove the standing
Gryffindor team into the ground. If Harry thought Oliver Wood
and Angelina Johnson, graduated captains and ex-residential
slave drivers, were strict, Katie was Satan.

A bludger came close to bludgeoning his ribs into the
Slytherin stands. He managed to dodge with minimal damage to
himself or his broom, but the stand told a different story. It
being the Slytherin stand, Harry couldn’t (or wouldn’t) bring
himself to care.

Katie, it seemed, did. “Potter, watch what’s going on around
you!” She yelled from the sidelines, observing Jimmy Peakes
and Ritchie Coote pounding regular orbs resembling basketballs
between themselves. “Spacing out in the middle of our match
against Ravenclaw in three weeks won’t win us the Quidditch
cup!”

Harry took back his mental observation. Katie wasn’t just
Satan; she was Satan with a whip, a jar of honey, the heat of
the sun, and a large fire ant hill.

“Katie,” panted Demelza Robins, pausing in her game of toss
and go with the her fellow Chaser Ginny Weasley, “we’ve
practiced from breakfast through lunch. Can we please call it
a day?”

Katie paused, almost like she was seriously considering the
plead. Finally, she sighed. “Okay, hit the showers, guys.
Practice will be early tomorrow morning, though!”

“You’re a goddess, Katie,” gasped Jimmy reverently.

“A true gem, Katie,” agreed the other Beater.

“Don’t thank me,” Harry heard Katie say grimly as he landed
beside her, “We’ll be feeling this tomorrow.” With that in
mind, the two Beaters dramatically fell to the ground and laid
still.

“It wasn’t that bad, guys,” Harry lied smoothly, smiling
slightly when Ritchie cracked an eye open and glared. The two
of them, while not sharing the raw talent that their
predecessors Fred and George Weasley had, seemed to have the
same wicked humor as the former Beaters.

“Says the Seeker to the Beater,” Jimmy groaned.

“I rather say you had it easy, mate,” Ritchie agreed. “All you
got was those weird white goll balls thrown at you.”

“Golf,” Jimmy corrected smartly.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Terribly welcome.”

“Hey, what’s Malfoy doing here?” Ron demanded loudly, glaring
at some area in the stands. The team collectively whipped
their heads around and stared at a small blonde slowly making
his way down the stands.

“Spying on us he is, the great ferrety git.” Ritchie claimed,
getting to his feet quickly.

“And look; led here by the braided brat, eh?” Jimmy chimed,
bringing attention to said braided boy waiting on the field,
watching the other make slow progress down the bleachers.
“Shall we tell them what’s what?”

“We shall,” agreed his friend before the two quickly bounded
off toward the two so-called spies, the rest of the team
quickly following.

Harry hesitated, narrowing his eyes slightly. Wait a moment...
“Wait, guys, that’s not–“ he called hurriedly, running to
catch up with the rest of them. They were already upon Duo and
his friend. The only thing running through Harry’s mind was
the conversation he overheard the two having the night before.

“Hey, Maxwell, what’s with bringing the companion? If you
wanted the lowdown on the wonderful game of Quidditch, you
should have asked your house mates,” Katie beat the twins to
the punch line, crossing her arms defensively as her team
stood rallied behind her.

“Yeah,” piped the second string Keeper (Harry vaguely recalled
his name was something like Cormac McLagger or McLaggen, and
that Katie had blown up at his attitude problem regarding the
team quite often), glaring at the blinking blond hesitating in
the stands. “No reason to ask cheating slime like him.”

Duo bristled visibly, his face becoming dark with fury. Jimmy
and Ritchie backed away quickly; they’d been around Duo quite
a lot, and they’d never seen him ostensibly angry before.

“Duo,” a soft voice penetrated the sudden silence, drawing
attention to the mouth of the blonde, “Calm down. They’re just
tired and made a mistake.”

Harry coughed loudly. “Like I was trying to explain,” he said
evenly, amazed with the lack of squeak in his voice, “this is
Duo’s friend, the guy they put in the infirmary the other
day.”

Ritchie blinked and made a visible effort of looking closely.
“Blimey, mate, you’re nearly a dead-ringer for Malfoy,” he
said in awe.

“What are you trying to do, Ritchie, insult him?” Jimmy said
in mock outrage. The blonde smiled graciously and finally took
that last step from the bleachers. He was the same small
height as Duo, nothing above one hundred sixty-five
centimeters, and his teal eyes shown with pleasure.

“I don’t mind. Mr. Malfoy and I have already noted the
similarities between us,” the blond said softly. “My name is
Quatre Rebarba Winner, a friend of Duo’s. It’s a pleasure
meeting people he actually likes.”

“He makes me sound like a crass recluse,” Duo complained,
grinning from ear to ear. “Q-bean, you KNOW I get along with
everyone!”

“Except those suffering sociopathic tendencies.”

“Except them,” Duo agreed. “One of those in my life is
damaging enough.”

“Sorry for the mistake,” Demelza muttered, ducking her head
and blushing slightly.

“It’s quite all right,” Winner said reassuringly. “I can see
where one would make the misunderstanding. Duo’s just a little
over protective,” he added with a teasing smile toward his
friend. “He hasn’t any other hobbies.”

“You treat me so wrong,” groaned the braided boy.

“He invited me to view your practice,” the blond said
apologetically. “I’m sorry if it wasn’t allowed, but I’ve
never heard of Quidditch before. I thought it sounded
interesting. He’s been, well, introducing me to the team, as
it were.” He smiled brightly, and all of the girls swooned.

“You three are very fast,” he commented to Demelza, Ginny, and
Katie serenely, daring a winning smile with the three. “Duo
tells me you run the Quaffle around the field and throw it
into one of the three opponent hoops. I’m sure I’ll be able to
see you ladies in action during the up-coming game.”

“Count on it!” Ginny exclaimed enthusiastically. The blond
nodded happily and turned his 100-watt smile toward the two
Beaters.

“Messrs. Coote and Peakes are very skilled as well,” Winner
claimed. “I can’t imagine hitting two basketballs toward each
other at such a close range. I looks very hard.”

The two exchanged proud looks and puffed their chests out. “We
like to think we live up to our former Beaters.”

“Or, you know, at least we don’t suck,” Ritchie lamented
ruefully.

“There’s always that,” chuckled Winner, shaking their hands
each as he had done with the three blushing Chasers. “And the
Keeper, Ron Weasley, you did a very good job out there.”

The Keeper shifted from foot to foot, blushing under Winner’s
praise. “Thanks...” he muttered, quickly shaking Winner’s
hand.

Winner turned to Harry last, that bright smile coming down a
few notches to resemble less admiration and even more
gratitude. “And Mr. Potter, you are very talented as well. I
must thank you for helping me when I was injured. I can
imagine the personal risk it was to go into a forest that felt
so wrong.”

“Wrong?” Katie piped up, drawing a concerned nod from Winner.

“Yes, it felt... tired. Drained.” Winner shivered, wrapping
his arms around himself. If possible, it made him look smaller
than before. “Dead. I could barely move purely due to the
forest.”

“That’s odd,” Harry murmured. “I’ve been in the forest before.
It’s never affected me that way.”

“Quat’s sensitive,” Duo interjected bluntly.

Winner’s mouth twitched into a small, sad form of the smile he
wielded before the subject of the forest came up. He held out
his hand once more, and Harry almost hesitated before reaching
out to take the offered hand. As soon as their skin met,
Winner wavered, looking pained and slightly puzzled. There was
one forced pump of their hands, and Winner quickly took his
hand from Harry’s. He looked immediately relieved.

“What?” Duo asked worriedly, glancing between Harry and
Quatre. “Quat?”

“I’m just a little dizzy,” Winner admitted with a sheepish
grin. “I’m afraid I’ve gone against Madam Pomfrey’s wishes and
over exerted myself.”

“We were heading for the showers anyway,” Demelza replied with
a concerned look. “You should go lie down.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy chimed. “Madam Pomfrey’s a bit stitchy when it
comes to her patients making themselves sick.”

“She’ll be very cross with you if you go and make yourself
faint.”

“We’ll see you when you’re better though, right?” Katie added
hopefully, her eyes shining while her cheeks flushed pink.
Winner smiled pleasantly and affirmed her request.

“C’mon, guys,” Ginny muttered, “I’d really like a shower right
now...”

Harry didn’t budge as the rest of the time headed for the
showers. He stared at those troubled teal eyes and asked
instead, “What really happened?”

Duo switched gazes back and forth, finally settling on Winner.
“This one’s all right, Quat...”

Winner gazed at Harry worriedly. “Does... do you have a
migraine?”

Harry blinked at the sudden inquiry. “No...”

Winner worried his bottom lip between his teeth. “When I shook
your hand, there was this intense pain here...” He pointed to
his own forehead, drawing a strange symbol down the center.
“It was so unnatural and violently hurtful... I can almost
still feel it.”

Harry jerked when the tracing finger finally hit him.

Quatre Winner was drawing a lightning bolt down his
forehead... exactly where Harry’s scar would be.

“What does it feel like?” Harry whispered hoarsely, his throat
strangely dry as he stared at the puzzled, anxious blonde
still tracing an absent shape down his forehead.

“Like... Death. Hatred,” Winner laminated. “It feels
horrible...”

“Harry’s got a scar there,” Duo pointed out, nodding solemnly.
“Maybe he got it in an accident?”

“No, it’s much more than that,” Winner insisted heatedly,
staring hard at the mentioned scar. Harry forced himself to
keep his ground, staring at Winner with equal intensity. “It’s
a connection, a link; on the other side lies the greatest evil
I’ve ever felt...”

Harry felt a shudder tempt his spine. He spat acrimoniously,
“Voldemort!”

Winner’s eyes widened. “Who is this Voldemort?” His
counterpart, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes intently,
almost glaring at Harry’s feet with a passion that could not
be named; further than hate, further than anger, bordering
sadness and despair... Duo looked like his worst enemy just
killed his best friend.

Harry shook his head, exasperated. “You don’t know?”

“Voldie’s this uberjerk of the wizarding world,” Duo drawled
in a mock dreary tone. “Fancies himself a warlord, or worse -
an actual god amongst men. He rules his army of minions by
fear alone, and guess what? He ain’t good news.” He glanced at
Quatre, cobalt eyes dull with gravity. “No telling what a
psychopath like that would do with someone like you, Quatre.
He hates muggles and muggle-borns –those are the guys that
have normal parents and whatnot. Dumbledore told me he’s all
puritan wizard guy, but he knows enough muggle stuff to
understand the significance of something like the devastation
caused by dropping a colony on Earth or how seriously mind-fucking the ZERO system is.

But what’s he got to do with you, Harry?”

Harry stared at Duo, then turned his incredulous gape on the
solemn-faced Quatre. “You’re not from the wizarding world,
either.”

“No,” Quatre replied quietly, “I’m not.”

“Yet you can see Hogwarts fine.”

“Yes.”

Harry sighed tiredly. “Voldemort came after my parents when I
was a little over a year old. He managed to find them, and he
killed them. He attempted to use the same curse to kill me,
too, but somehow it backfired and hit him instead, destroying
his body and sending his soul away. It left me this scar,” he
emphasized with an absent touch to his forehead, “and
orphaned. Thirteen years later, early last June, he managed to
use this connection to bring himself from toeing Death’s
door.”

“Funny,” Duo commented, “I didn’t hear him coming.”

Harry blinked at him. “What?”

“That’s not the entire story,” Quatre noted suddenly. “But
yes, that is the important information. This Voldemort is
after you.”

“Of course. Wait, you’re saying you actually believe me?”
Harry cried, shocked.

“Do we have any reason not to?” Duo laughed. “Quatre and I
have our own built-in lie detectors. If you were lying about
anything, we’d know it.”

“It’s just that,” Harry faltered. “Very few people actually
believe a word I say. They all think I’m having delusions of
grandeur. The only people who consider a word I say are
Dumbledore, the professors, my friends, and my godfather.”

“Now you have us, too,” Duo winked. “And we’re the guys you
want on your team.”

“We’ll get our hands dirty,” Quatre said softly, “to help
anyone who is being unjustly repressed and prejudiced
against.”

“And Valuemart puritan guy is definitely of the bad,” Duo
inserted with a smirk.

Harry choked.

“Um, Duo,” Quatre said, hiding a smile behind the palm of his
hand. “I think that’s ‘Voldemort’.”

“Really?” Duo replied airily. “No wonder I keep having this
image of a guy in a red vest attacking innocent civilians with
his low, low prices.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, Drac...”

Draco Malfoy turned the page of his book without looking
toward the speaker. “I do not believe I gave you my express
permission to know me so personally, McAllistar.”

He felt the vile creature sit beside him on the hardback
couch, spreading his arms across the back and propping one leg
on top of the other as he smirked down at the blonde
maliciously.

“Draco, Draco... when are you going to learn that we all aim
for the same goal here.”

“Strange,” Draco replied offhandedly, still keeping his roving
eyes on the Latin words printed tinily on the cracking
parchment. “Yet you still haven’t mastered the art of
controlling your thugs’ offensive body odor.”

The bigger, darker man chuckled politely. “I believe you do
not have the room to throw those stones, Drac.”

“My name has an ‘o’. What is it that you want, McAllistar?”

“So taut! I was simply curious, Draco,” McAllistar drawled,
mockingly drawing out the ‘o’ of his name. “You’ve halted your
advocating of a common acquaintance. Certain circles wonder if
you’ve turned your back on him.”

How could I, Draco mused bitterly, heat seething under the
surface of his skin as the swine nonchalantly laid his hand on
his opposite shoulder, wrapping his arm loosely across Draco’s
shoulders, when I am stuck so thoroughly under His thumb that
I’m suffocating?

“I’ve read about a small thing called tact. Have you heard of
it, McAllistar?” Draco snapped his cold gaze on the grinning
youth. “I’ve found it keeps the eyes of those who would
persecute me elsewhere.”

“Of course,” McAllistar agreed smoothly, tossing his head
arrogantly. “However, in the privacy of our own common room,
you are expected to hold certain ideals proudly.”

“Then again,” Draco responded cooly, “there are those in this
same common room that would have me suffer unnecessarily out
of pure malice.”

“You’re scared.”

“I’m reasonably intelligent,” Draco countered, closing his
book with finality, and he smirked at McAllistar. “The only
one I believe in our company who fears our common acquaintance
is you, McAllistar.”

The older boy unwrapped his arm from around Draco’s shoulder
like he had been burned. Jerkily, he took a damning hold of
the blonde’s small wrist and hissed into the shell of his ear,
“Watch yourself, Malfoy. You will do well to keep me
satisfied.”

“Of course,” Draco murmured quietly, one-handedly fingering
his book casually before meeting McAllistar’s brown-eyed stare
again. “However, perhaps you should not manhandle me so in
front of prying eyes.”

McAllistar, realizing the folly of his action, squeezed
Draco’s pale wrist one last time before taking his hand away
with an amiable smile. Draco resisted the urge to rub the
soreness away; he knew without looking that his wrist would
bruise quickly.

“He has substantial designs for you, Draco,” McAllistar
murmured softly. “Some would consider this an honor. Do not
squander his attention with your foolery.”

“I’ll not change for him.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Emotionless grey hues met burning brown. The blonde snorted
softly. “Take it as you wish, McAllistar. I explain myself to
no one.”

McAllistar’s smiled widened as he hummed quietly in assent
before he and his hovering goons moved for the common room
entrance. Draco watched dispassionately as they disappeared
through the portal.

“That was very risky, Draco,” confided a familiar murmur.
Draco didn’t have to glance over to see Blaise propped against
the back of the couch. “Do you suppose he has any knowledge
privy to you?”

Draco slid a look toward the dark-haired boy. “McAllistar’s an
idiot. He’s attempting a sad mimicry of intimidating me, and
he realizes his efforts are mediocre at best.”

“Did he allow anything to slip?”

“Just further proof that he’s a lapdog to the Dark Lord,”
Draco replied flippantly. “He insinuated that I’m not to be
initiated into the ranks. For some reason, the Dark Lord has
more important plans for me.”

“Indeed.” Zabini knelt beside Draco’s ear. “Something we
already suspected.”

“But not proved,” Draco reminded the other boy meaningfully,
slowly sliding his book into the discarded bag lying against
the small, cherry wood table in set as a centerpiece for
seating arrangement around the burning fire. “Everything
before was nothing but speculation. The question we now face
is this: how many of us are in for the same plot?”

“Or are you the only one the Dark Lord has culled from the
many choices.”

The thought did not bode well for the Malfoy heir.

END Chapter Seven

The Valuemart crack was, I’m afraid to say, shamelessly stolen
from GoddessEris’ A Bicycle in the Family Tree on FF.Net. The
line was such a golden wise-ass moment that I just HAD to
steal it. :bows: If you don’t mind HPBtVS crossovers, go read
it -it’s under my favorites list. Go! Now! You’ll love it,
even if it hasn’t been updated in God knows how long.
- 6
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Harry Potter and the Secret Link