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For the Love of a Boy	By : CynFinnegan Category: Gundam Wing/AC > Crossovers Views: 1065 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing characters � Sunrise. Used Without Permission and NOT for Profit. Harry Potter & related characters � Joanne Katherine Rowling. Used Without Permission and NOT for Profit.

Chapter List
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For the Love of a Boy

I do not own Gundam Wing or the characters from them. I am just borrowing them. If I did own them, the Remastered version of the Gundam Wing series would be uncut and include a dubbed version of the "Odds & Evens" episodes. I don't own Harry Potter, either. He belongs to the lovely and talented J.K. Rowling.

Gundam Wing characters © Sunrise. Used Without Permission and NOT for Profit.

Harry Potter & related characters © Joanne Katherine Rowling. Used Without Permission and NOT for Profit.

Chapter Summary: Harry Potter's arrival at Number 4 Privet Drive.

Warning: Rated "M" for language, some mild romance between Trowa and Quatre in later chapters, non-explicit NCS and violence. There is NO character bashing in this, except for maybe Dorothy, Duke Dermail, and most of OZ (okay, maybe not Treize and Lady Une so much). Other than that, friendships and relationships are canon (01xR, 02xH, 03x04, future HPxGW, RWxHG).

Italics - Thoughts, emphasis.

:Italics between colons: - Telepathic conversation.

"Italics in quotation marks" - written messages; TV and radio transmissions, telephone conversations.

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Prologue: #4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, UK, October 31, AC 188

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For about the fiftieth time that night, Albus Dumbledore wondered if Millicent Bagnold, the Minister of Magic for all of Britain, wasn't a paranoid idiot. In the last few hours since the sudden and tragic deaths of James and Lily Potter, he'd found out that she had overridden their will naming Sirius Black the legal guardian of their 15-month-old son Harrison, or Harry for short, ruling in favor of Lily's Muggle sister, Petunia Dursley, and her equally Muggle husband, Vernon, as Harry's guardians.
On the surface, Bagnold's reasoning sounded logical, if somewhat antiquated. Her reasons for subverting James and Lily's will were that one, Sirius was related to four Death Eaters, by both blood and marriage, and two, he was a bachelor with no experience in raising a child. Dumbledore didn't buy it, though. Sirius did have some experience with caring for Harry before James and Lily went into hiding. These were merely excuses for Bagnold to exert her sense of family and morality over the rest of the Wizarding world. In Millicent Bagnold's world, that meant no unwed parents, no gays or lesbians and no one who didn't toe her line.
For an old wizard, Dumbledore was pretty well-informed about the wonders and terrors of the Muggle world. Though he'd never yet been to one, he knew all about the space colonies, and about mobile suits, too. He'd seen one of those Leos just a couple of hours ago, and in spite of the danger it presented, it was a magnificent thing to behold!
Muggle aren't just clever, they're ingenious! He thought cheerfully, and then sobered again when he remembered why he was there; placing Harry with his Muggle relatives.
He remembered the former Petunia Evans from when her sister Lily was a student at Hogwarts. Petunia was a jealous, hateful, bitter and spiteful woman, not only towards Lily but also to their elder sister, Marguerite, or Maggie for short.
Maggie was killed nearly six years ago when she and her husband, Nathan Bloom, were caught in the crossfire of a mobile suit battle between OZ and a so-called rebel faction. When the Alliance notified Petunia and Vernon of the deaths of Maggie and Nate, that their two-year-old son, Triton, was missing, and that their niece Catherine was now an orphan, they said that, quite frankly, the four-year-old girl could go into foster care. The two-year-old boy, too, if they ever bothered to find him.
Why? Because her parents were circus folk and even at the age of four, Catherine Bloom could throw daggers with deadly accuracy, and for a toddler, her two-year-old brother Triton was an incredibly agile little boy who had an extraordinary sense of balance. If by some miracle Triton somehow managed to survive the Alliance's attack, he would grow up to be a gifted acrobat.
It didn't hurt that both children had been blessed by being as magic as their father was, either.
Dumbledore feared that Petunia would take out her hatred and jealousy for her little sister out on Harry, and that Vernon might beat him for least little excuse, but what could he do? Bagnold had put one of her size 8 feet (though she wore a size 7 shoe) down and ordered the elderly wizard to leave the baby with his Muggle relatives, love him or hate him. All Dumbledore could do was to wait for Hagrid, who was bringing little Harry up from Godric's Hollow, to arrive.
Albus had been discreetly observing the Dursleys for most of the evening, and came to the conclusion that they shouldn't be allowed to care for a goldfish, much less an exceptional child like Harry. Vernon was a great, intolerant walrus of a man, and Petunia an awful gossip. Their son, Dudley, whom Petunia and Vernon thought was the finest boy in the Earth Sphere, was in fact a spoiled brat and a bully, and quite probably more than a little stupid.
Of course, he wasn't the only one who observed the Dursleys this day. A gray and black tabby cat with spectacle markings around her eyes was watching, too, and she wasn't happy with what she saw. Dumbledore searched the pockets of his long, gray-lavender robes for something, and made an "Ah!" sound when he found it. He pulled out something that looked very much like an antique silver cigarette lighter and flicked it open.
When he opened it, every light on the street went completely out, leaving only two pools of green light from the cat's eyes. Minutes later, the cat jumped down from the wall where she's been stiffly sitting for hours, stretched and walked over to the old wizard. As she did, the cat transformed herself back into a severe-looking woman who wore wire frame glasses in exactly the shape of the markings the cat had around its eyes. She also wore a cloak, an emerald green one, her black hair was drawn into a tight bun, and she looked rather ruffled.
"Fancy meeting you here, Professor McGonagall," the wizard said to the dark-haired woman with a smile.
"How did you know I was here?" Minerva McGonagall asked tersely.
"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit quite so stiffly."
"You'd be stiff, too, if you sat on a brick wall all day!" she sniffed, her Scottish accent coming to the fore. They argued for a few minutes, and then she finally asked, "What I've been hearing all day about James and Lily ... is it true, Albus? Are they ... dead?"
"I wish it were not, Minerva, but alas, it is true," Dumbledore replied sadly, and Professor McGonagall started to weep in response. James was her godson, and Lily her best student; their deaths at Voldemort's hands had hurt her as if she had lost her own children.
A few minutes and a lace hanky eye dab later, Minerva asked, "Why are we here?"
"Bagnold has overridden James and Lily's will in favor of Lily's sister, Petunia, and her family. She's ordered me to leave him with them instead of following their wishes in the matter and giving him to Sirius Black. They're the only family he has left now."
"You don't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Albus, please, you can't mean them. I've been watching them all day. They're the worst sort of Muggles! You couldn't find two people less like us, and their son... I saw him kick his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets! Harry Potter live here!"
"It's the best place for him right now," Dumbledore said with an air of finality. Albus knew Minerva was right, of course, but he had no choice in the matter. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him as he gets older. I've written them a letter."
"A letter?" Professor McGonagall scoffed, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Albus, do you seriously think you can explain all of this to them in a letter? These people will never understand him! He's already famous ... there will be books written about him ... every child in our world will know his name!"
"Exactly," Dumbledore said, looking at Minerva over the tops of his half-moon glasses. "It'll be enough to turn any young boy's head. Being famous before he can walk or talk, and for something he won't even remember doing ... I cannot think of a worse fate for a child. He'll be better off not knowing about any of this until he's old enough to understand it all.
"Minerva, if I had a choice in the matter and they were still with us, I would leave Harry with Maggie and Nathan. Catherine and little Triton would have loved having a baby brother."
Professor McGonagall opened her mouth to speak, changed her mind, and then swallowed hard to remove another lump in her throat. Minerva finally said with a sigh "Yes, you're right, of course. But how is he getting here?"
"Hagrid is bringing him."
"Do you think trusting Hagrid with something as important as this is wise?"
"I'd trust Hagrid with my life," Dumbledore said with certainty.
"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," Professor McGonagall replied grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he isn't careless. He does tend to - what on Earth is that?"
Just then, the low, rumbling sound of an engine broke the silence around them. It got louder and louder as they looked for some sign of a headlight, and swelled to a thunderous roar as they looked to the sky. A moment later, a huge motorcycle dropped out of the sky and landed on the road in front of them.
If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing compared to the man riding it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man was and at least five times as wide. He looked too large and too wild to be real. His long, black hair and beard were bushy and hid most of his face, his hands were the size of trashcan lids, and his feet, encased in leather boots, resembled baby dolphins. He was holding a blanket-lined bassinet in his hugely muscled arms.
"Hagrid, at last," Dumbledore said, sounding relieved. "Where did you get that motorcycle?"
"Borrowed it from young Sirius Black, Professor Dumbledore, sir," the giant replied, carefully climbing off the motorcycle as he spoke. "He lent it ter me. I've got him, sir."
"Were there any problems finding him?"
"No, sir... not much of th' house was left, but I got 'im out aright before them Muggles started swarmin' over th' place. He finally dropped off ter sleep while we was flyin' over Bristol."
While Hagrid spoke, Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent over to look in the basket. Inside it was a sleeping baby boy, and on his forehead, hidden by a tuft of jet-black hair, was an odd shaped cut that looked like a lightning bolt.
"Is that where Voldemort - ?" Professor McGonagall whispered almost fearfully.
"Yes," said Dumbledore, "and he'll have that scar for the rest of his life."
"Can't we do something about it, Dumbledore? It's going to mark him ...!"
"I wouldn't, even if I could. Scars can be useful things to have. In fact, I have one myself. It's just above my left knee, and it's a perfect map of the London Underground. Well, give him here, Hagrid. We'd better get this over with."
Dumbledore took little Harry from the half-giant and carried him towards his new home.
"Could ... could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what could only be an itchy kiss, and Hagrid suddenly let out a howl like a kicked puppy.
"Shhhh!" Professor McGonagall hissed, putting her finger to her lips. "You'll wake up the Muggles!"
"I'm s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it ... Lily an' James are gone ... an' poor little Harry's off ter live with Muggles ..."
"I know you're sad, Hagrid, but you need to get a grip on yourself, or we'll be seen," Professor McGonagall whispered, gingerly patting the huge man's arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and strode up to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took the letter he mentioned earlier out of his cloak, tucked it in Harry's bassinet, and then went back to join the other two.
For a moment, the three of them stood and looked at the small, blanket-wrapped bundle. Hagrid's enormous shoulders shook with emotion, Professor McGonagall furiously blinked away the tears in her eyes, and the inner light that usually twinkled from Dumbledore's bright blue orbs seemed to have fizzled out.
"Well, that's that," Dumbledore finally said with a sad, heavy sigh. "We've no more business being here. We might as well go and join in the celebrations, even if our hearts aren't into them."
"Yeah," said Hagrid in a much muffled voice, "I'd best get this bike away. G'night, Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Wiping streams of tear away with the sleeve of his jacket, Hagrid climbed onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.
"I expect I'll see you soon, Professor McGonagall?" Dumbledore asked as he nodded to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.
As soon as she was out of sight, Dumbledore turned and walked back down to the corner. Once there, he turned around and took out his silver Deluminator, clicking it once. Twelve balls of light swiftly sped back to their street lamps, and Privet Drive once again glowed under the orange of mercury vapor. He made out the shape of a tabby cat as it slunk around the corner at the other end of the street, as well as the blanket-lined basket sitting on the stoop of number four.
"Good luck, Harry," the old wizard murmured sadly as he turned on his heel, then vanished with a faint crack as a light, cold wind jostled the hedges that lay neatly and quietly under the starry night sky. Privet Drive was the very last place you'd expect something amazing would happen.
In his blankets, Harry rolled over without ever waking up, one of his tiny hands closing on the letter beside him. He continued to sleep without knowing he was special or famous. He didn't know he would be woken up in a few hours time by his aunt's shrill scream when she opened the door to set out the bottles for the milkman, nor did he know that he would spend the next few weeks being poked and pinched by his already tubby cousin, Dudley.
He didn't know that, at this very moment, people met in secret all over the country, held up glasses and said in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter... the boy who lived!"

- - = = 000 = = - -
Some miles away, a very young soldier looked at the horizon to see what appeared to be fireworks going off in the sky. He was a nameless boy of about eight years old, but he knew somehow that something was odd. For one thing, it was Hallowe'en, not New Year's Eve or the King's birthday; those were the only times of year the government allowed fireworks to be shot off. And these fireworks didn't smell, either. Normal fireworks stank like gunpowder. These fireworks, though... they had life and energy to them... almost like magic... but that was silly. There was no such thing as magic.
That wasn't the only weird thing he'd seen that day. There were huge groups of owls flying around in broad daylight... and in a "missing man" formation no less! Then there was that shady-looking character Cappy called Fletcher hanging around, trying to sell some items he had stuffed in a gunny sack. Cappy promptly told Fletcher to take his stolen crap elsewhere and ran him off, but not before he'd given the child a carved stick and a slip of paper.
Unbeknownst to the boy, he was being watched by a fellow merc just a few years older than him. The young man shook his dark head; no one had seen the kid at supper, which meant he hadn't eaten anything since noon mess. The young man knew that most boys the kid's age were out tonight, going door to door and begging for sweets, or soaping windows and wrapping trees and shrubbery in toilet paper if they got none, not pulling all-night guard duty. And as tired as the child was, he'd probably wind up asleep at his post before another hour passed.
A guard caught sleeping could spell trouble if the Alliance or OZ decided to pull another night raid.
"Nanashi," the young man, Ralph Kurt, said as he patted the boy on his shoulder. "Cappy sent me to take the rest of the watch for you. He also sent orders for you to go grab some grub and find your bunk."
The boy called Nanashi nodded, suppressed another yawn, and then headed for the mess tent. The cook had saved him a bowl of beef stew, still piping hot, two scones (although Cookie called them biscuits) to sop up the gravy with and a big glass of milk to wash it all down. When he finished eating and got to his tent, the nameless boy found a small bag of sweets on his pillow. He put the sweets, the stick and the scrap of paper in his foot locker, stretched out on his cot and fell into a deep sleep.

- - = = 000 = = - -
Author's Notes: Sorry, but I had to edit this chapter. I remembered that Fudge wasn't MoM until the year after Lily and James' murders; Millicent Bagnold was, but I figured she'd be just as hidebound and stubborn about the Muggle world and its technology as ol' Cornball. Plus, I dropped a couple of words, and I wanted to add an eight-year-old Nanashi's perspective on the celebrations of Voldemort's defeat.
Yes, "our" Trowa is a Brit in this one, too (personally, I think "our" Trowa/Triton Bloom is a Brit, period, while the real Trowa Barton was possibly of Russian descent), and so is Cathy, though neither have much of an accent anymore. They're biological brother and sister in this, and Harry is related to them both.
Next Chapter: Harry meets Nanashi.
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For the Love of a Boy