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Harry Potter/Xena Crossover
I am taking suggestions for a title so if you have any ideas I'd be glad to hear them.
Author: mishap
Rating: NC17
Feedback: mishap00@mchsi.com
Fandom: Xena/Herc and Harry Potter Crossover
Disclaimer: Any rights I am entitled to I freely give back to the copyrighted owners of Harry Potter, H: TLJ and X: WP. I own nothing and make no claims.
Status: WIP
Series: God I hope not.
Archive: AJCS, and others ask and you shall receive.
Warning: If you are not 18 and don't like m/m relationships don't read this.
Notes: First Harry Potter story. I have played merry hell with the timelines and ages in this story so don't be surprised if things seem a bit screwed up.

Chapter One

Fred and George Weasley had appropriated a long unused classroom to execute their greatest prank yet their crowning achievement. In honor of their graduation just a few short months away they planned to invoke the very spirit of mischief.

     Finding the spell itself was a stroke of luck. Ironically it had been found due to a prank gone awry in the library.  Fred's book bag was left too close to the fire and the heat had caused some of their wizard fireworks to detonate prematurely and explode loudly additionally several bookshelves were knocked over. While serving detention and cleaning up the library they had found the spell stuck to the bottom of a bookcase that previously hadn't been moved in centuries.

     They had followed the directions explicitly, from the ritual purification to the prescribed acts of mischief. The remaining step was to summon their magic and allow it to build while chanting the ancient Greek words they had been unable to fully translate, as they appeared to have no counterpart in Modern English.

     Joining their hands together with a wand clasped in each pair of hands the twins faced each other beginning the chant and feeling the power flow and increase between them nearing the end of the chant their bodies and wands were glowing brightly. Invoking the spirit and releasing the built up power created a flash of light that momentarily blinded them. Blinking away the afterimages the light had left they heard the sound of a yawn and turned to face not a spirit, but what appeared to be a young man in his mid to late teens clad in leather who was stretching as if awakened from a long sleep.

     Feeling the eyes of the twins upon him the stranger rushed forward and pulled the twins into an embrace lifting them from the floor and spinning them around, literally howling in glee.

     “Free at last.” He finally spoke returning the squirming, struggling twins to the ground. “The two of you obviously invoked me for a reason and I am certainly in the mood to grant the requests of my two new high priests.”

     “High-“ one twin began.

     “-priests?” the other finished in a squeaky startled voice.

     “We just wanted to -“

     “-invoke the spirit of mischief-“

“---so that no one would ever forget our graduation.”

     “Do the two of you practice that?” the young man questioned shaking his head a little dazedly. “Never mind. You have done much better than invoking a measly spirit you have woken the Olympian god of mischief himself. “

     Fred and George asked in unison. “Cupid?”

     “Strife.” The god snapped back rolling his eyes in frustration. “I never got the respect that the rest of the family did but I didn't think my name would be forgotten altogether and that winged menace given all the credit.” The god grumped as he read the total lack of any recognition as he absently scanned their minds noting that although their current thoughts were easily read the rest of their minds were curiously resistant.

     “If you didn't even know who I was why did you dedicate your lives to my service?” he questioned, knowing the answer yet wanting to see their reactions.

     Fred and George stared at each other momentarily before facing their god. “It was an accident, we couldn't translate-“

     “-all of the words of the spell.”

     “So we just guessed.” They finished in unison.

     Fred spoke up asking a suspicious question of his own. “If you're Greek how do you speak English so well? And what's with all the leather?”

     Strife sighed, running his hands through his already spiked and disheveled hair he answered. “I am a god you know. Granted I was never a major deity, but I am a god nevertheless, and leather is just…me.”

     “Oh, okay.” Fred nodded curiosity apparently satisfied for the moment. “We should take you to see the headmaster he'll know what to do. And he likes pranks and mischief almost as much as we do.” He added as an after thought.

     “Very well.” Strife replied feigning indifference. The brief burst of energy that had woken him had mostly been used in that wakening and he was alarmed to find how low his energy levels were. In fact the passive energy he received from the twins as his High Priests was the only thing allowing him to retain his corporeal form. Perhaps this Headmaster his high priests had mentioned could help.

     As he followed his priests through the halls and passages he could feel the power humming through the building itself but not in a form he could access unfortunately given the depleted energy state he currently found himself in. The building even appeared to have a kind of limited sentience, benign, but still odd.
     Fed and George communicated silently using the uncanny gift given to twins occasionally. Conveying whole concepts and ideas with the twitch of an eyebrow or slight lift of a shoulder.

     Strife watched in amusement at the silent conversation taking place in front of him at lightning speed knowing that they were unaware of his ability to catch their thoughts. He enjoyed and appreciated the little jolts of energy he received as they planned and plotted what to do if they needed to incapacitate him. He found it fascinating to observe how they acted as one person in two bodies, finishing each other's thoughts in much the same manner as their earlier bewildering speech habits.

     His musing on this subject was interrupted as his guides stopped in front of the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's abode.

     Before the twins could utter a word the gargoyle slid aside to reveal the headmaster waiting for them.

     His eyes twinkling merrily he spoke, “Fred and George come in and introduce me to your new `friend'.”

     Fred took the lead, “Professor Dumbledore, I would like you to meet Strife, god of mischief.”

     George continued, “Strife this the Headmaster of Hogwarts, our school, Professor Dumbledore.”

     Strife was shown into a cluttered, yet cozy feeling room. Every nook and corner of the room seemed to hold something to tease and fascinate the eye. It was amusing, the mortal was using one of his favorite strategies, distract the enemy while giving you a chance to study them and take note of what catches their eye. Taking this all in at a glance Strife was not taken unaware or started by the seemingly innocuous offer of candy “Lemon drop?” that professor Dumbledore offered him with a twinkle in his eye.

     “Thanks.” He said and took the entire dish in a vain attempt to turn the trick back on the old man.

     The twins, who had silently filed in behind Strife and Dumbledore made their presence known. “Uh professor should we head back to the dorm and let you two talk?” Fred questioned hopefully.

     Turning away from his godly visitor the headmaster fixed the twins with a piercing stare and said sardonically. “I wouldn't dream of depriving our guest of his two most loyal followers.”

     Strife lounged back in his chair and enjoyed watching the old man make his boys squirm. His boys? When had that happened? And shaking his head mentally he reflected on how attached he always seemed to get to his worshippers and even though he was enjoying the jolt of energy he was getting from the situation he decided he'd better break it up. After all what kind of god didn't take care of his followers.

     “So professor now that you've got me, what are you gonna do with me?” he asked lifting his legs to rest his booted feet on the corner of the desk in manner that had been irritating authority figures for centuries.

     Staring at the boots propped so nonchalantly on his desk the headmaster replied. “I suppose we should find someone for you to work mischief on…” He paused a positively diabolical look on his face and mad twinkle appearing in his eyes. “and I think I have just the person in mind.”

     Strife sat up stiffly and dropped his feet to the floor not liking the look on the man's face at all. “I wouldn't get too carried now” he said nervously “I have been asleep for a couple of thousand years you know. I am not just up to snuff just now.” He objected.

     “Oh I think a few weeks surrounded by over a thousand mischievous, prank playing students should recharge your batteries so to speak.” The old wizard smiled and Strife just knew he wasn't going to like it.

Chapter Two

     “How do I get myself into these things?” Strife muttered to himself as he waited in a small antechamber off of the great hall for the headmaster to introduce him to the school. “Going back to school at my age. Just because I look like a kid.” He snorted still talking out loud to himself. “and what in Hades did he mean by sorted?”

     His musing were interrupted by a knock on the door, his signal to enter the great hall grumbling at the unfamiliar robes and wanting his leathers back desperately.

     Entering the great hall he heard the tail end of Dumbledore's introduction. “…welcome our newest student to Hogwarts, Sebastien Saunders.” Listening to the polite applause he gritted his teeth at the name the headmaster had chosen meaning venerable son of Alexander. He was no more that arrogant bastard's son than he was Hercules' mother.

     He started as a woman previously introduced as Professor McGonagall touched his elbow and urged him towards a stool set conspicuously in the center of the room with the most ridiculous looking lump of cloth he'd ever seen sitting on it. The Professor picked it up and urged him to sit and placed the object he'd belatedly recognized as a hat of some sort on his head.

     The feeling of something shuffling through his head was extremely unpleasant as was the voice that seem to speak in his head “interesting, very interesting.” Before shouting out loud. “SLYTHERIN” He was propelled off the stool and escorted to a table full of stuck up looking brats who eyed him as if he were some sort of freak. He mentally cracked his knuckles, oh yeah he was going to have a lot of fun taking them down a few pegs.

     A blond boy clearly their leader and spokesman addressed him in a haughty tone of voice. “Saunders-“

     “Strife.” He interrupted; he was not going to be called that ridiculous name if he could avoid it.

     “I beg your pardon?” the boy questioned a supercilious sneer on his face.

     “Call me Strife, I won't answer to anything else.

     “Very well…Strife. I don't know how things are done where you are from, but there are a few rules you need to know if you are going to survive your stay in our house…”

     Strife cut him off in mid sentence. “Don't threaten me, you won't like the consequences.” He stared the blond down and watched, as his already pale complexion became several shades lighter at the deadly menace in his gaze. Satisfied that his point had been made he looked around locating his high priests at a nearby table along with a black-haired youth with an odd scar on his forehead who was watching him with a puzzled look on his face.

     Feeling the buzz that signaled mischief being planned he turned back to face its source and found Draco staring at him with narrowed eyes. Giving the brat his second and final warning he stated. “Don't even think about it, Blondie.” And managed to startle the boy into showing a flash of fear and the beginnings of respect.

Chapter Three

     Following the Slytherin, Blaise Zabini, that had been appointed to guide him to his classes he entered his first class of the day Double Potions a class combined with their rival house Gryffindor. Blaise had told him that the teacher was the head of their house and not to worry even if he screwed up that Professor Snape would `fix' it. As if, he thought between Aphrodite and Hecate's teaching him as a child he would `screw up' any simple mortal potion.

     The tall, severe man who swept into the classroom was something of a surprise though. He could see a definite resemblance to his uncle Hades in his manner and his attitude. Although the way he was mentally torturing the poor kid he called Longbottom was vaguely reminiscent of Discord as well.

     He turned his attention back to his cauldron and stirred the mess in a desultory fashion with the wooden stick that the headmaster had provided and had called a `wand'. Whatever that was, only to be startled by the words of his teacher. “Mr. Saunders, what do you think you are doing stirring that potion with your wand? “

     “Mixing it, what else.” He replied irritated that he hadn't noticed the Professor's presence before he spoke.

     “I suggest that you use the proper instruments and don't risk contaminating your wand with an untested potion.”

     “Whatever.” He said dismissively pulling the wand out of the cauldron.

     “That will be five points from Slytherin for your insolence Mr. Saunders.

     “Strife, he replied glaring back at the man. “Don't call me Saunders.”

     “Mr. Saunders, I will call you what I please and that is twenty more points taken from Slytherin. Would you like to try for fifty? Snape questioned icily.

     Strife glared and silently shook his head watching as the mortal turned back to torment some other poor slob. He decided right then and there that he had discovered his first victi…er target for his mischief.

     “Strife” his partner Blaise whispered “don't make him mad. He'll do a lot for you just because you're in his house and all he'll ask for is a little respect. But if you make him mad and disrespect him he'll make your life a living hell.”

     Strife was torn, on one hand the mortal had pissed him off, but on the other all he was demanding was some respect, which as a teacher was entitled to from his students. If he had ever spoken to `Dite or, he shuddered, Hecate the way he had spoken to Snape when they were teaching him they would done much, much worse than snap at him a little. For now he'd wait and see maybe a few harmless pranks nothing malicious…for now.

Chapter Four

     Following a seemingly endless day of boring classes Strife summoned his priest through the connection all gods shared with their dedicated priests and waited impatiently in the disused classroom where the had first awoken him from the twilight.

     Fred and George entered the room and said in unison, “Did you want us? We could feel something, but we weren't sure exactly what it was and it seemed to come from here.”

     Rubbing his hands together gleefully Strife spoke. “I've got a plan and the two of you are just perfect to help pull it off.

     Explaining his plan to the twins he was occasionally interrupted by delighted laughter. He couldn't wait to see the reaction his first act of true mischief in over two thousand years.

     Bright and early the next morning Strife took his place at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall and calmly ate his breakfast while waiting for the empty place at the teacher's table to be filled.

     The sudden silence spreading through the room announced his victim's arrival. He watched a Professor Snape made his way to the head table the expression on his face daring anyone to say a word.

     The Headmaster took that dare and said, “Severus this is a new look for you.”

     Stopping in mid-step he turned and face Professor Dumbledore. “Albus” he acknowledged. “This is not a new look. Someone has sabotaged all of my clothing.” He bit out through clenched teeth.

     “Let me help you then,” he said and waved his wand at Snape's clothing.

     “NO DON'T,” Snape tried to stop him as the headmaster's efforts turned his blindingly white robes to a pink and baby blue plaid. “it just makes it worse.” He finished lamely as the entire room burst into laughter. He turned and stalked from the hall his transfigured robes swirling majestically around him.

     Strife was basking in the energy he was receiving from a prank done well when he noticed the boy at the Gryffindor table who had stared at him yesterday was doing it again.

     Leaning over to his seatmate he asked. “Blaise, who's that kid with the black hair and glasses with the scar at the Gryffindor table? He keeps staring at me.”

     Blaise replied, “That Harry Potter, `The Boy Who Lived'.”

     “The boy who lived for what?” he shot back curious.

     Glancing around nervously Blaise explained “He's the only person who has ever survived the killing curse and he did it when he was just a baby, after `he who must not be named' killed his parents. That's how he got the scar on his forehead.”

      Taken aback Strife questioned, “He who must not be named is that D-A-H-O-K?”

     Blaise was looking scared as he whisper almost inaudibly. “No, Lord Voldemort.”

     “Voldemort?” he whispered back “who in Hades is that?”

     The look on his housemate's face was priceless, complete and utter shock. “You've never heard of him?” he asked. “He's the Dark Lord…” he was interrupted by the necessity of leaving to get to class. “I'll talk to you later.” He said. “in the dorms after class. There are some things you've got to know and this is not the place to talk about them.”

     Strife lounged comfortably on his bed in the dorm as he tried to digest the information that Blaise had given him. “So basically what you're saying is that this Voldemort person was almost killed by a baby years ago and has been terrorizing the wizarding community in Britain since he was reanimated?” He waited for Blaise's nod before continuing. “So how come he's still around? Why hasn't the government or whatever killed him?”

     “It's not that easy.” Blaise whispered glancing around the empty room uneasily. “The minister Cornelius Fudge denies that he's back and he has a lot of followers called death eaters.” His voice got even quieter, “And most of them used to be Slytherins.”

     He snorted, disgusted at that piece of news. “Oh great, and I get sorted into the house full of idiots who are stupid enough to follow that sort of nutcase. Anyone should be able to see that…”

     “Shhh.” Blaise interrupted looking around wildly. “You can't talk like that in here.”

     “Why not?” the mischief god answered annoyed.

     “Because you have to live here and those death eaters I mentioned their kids are here and it's not safe to talk like that.” He whispered hoarsely.

     Strife dismissed the danger with an annoyed wave of his hand. “If you mean that little shit Malfoy, I am about as intimidated by him as I am of a week old kitten.”

     “You should be, he's got a mean streak and he won't do anything himself he's got a lot of people willing to do it for him.”

     “Stick with me kid,” he patted the trembling boy on the shoulder. “and you won't have a thing to worry about.”

     “Y-you can't fight all of them.” Came the rejoinder.

     “Watch me.” And seeing the manic glint in Strife's eyes Blaise couldn't help but believe him.

Chapter Five

     After leaving the members of his house slumbering with the illusion of himself still and abed Strife ghosted down the halls of Hogwarts headed for Dumbledore's office. It'd been child's play to avoid both his head of house and the caretaker roaming the corridors. Congratulating himself on putting one over on them he almost shrieked like a girl when ran into an invisible object and landed on what felt like a human body.

     “What the-“ he started and stopped as a face seemed to appear out of nowhere. It was that kid that was staring at him at breakfast and dinner. What was his name? Oh yeah Harry Potter.

Realizing that some kind of invisibility cloak had concealed the kid's presence from him Strife giggled. “Cool cloak.”

     Panting to get the breath back that Strife had squashed out of him Harry gasped out. “Get off I can't breathe.”

     Leaping nimbly to his feet Strife offered his hand and helped the breathless boy to his feet.

     Eyeing the resultant illusion of a bodiless head floating in mid air Strife giggled once more and commented “Nice effect.”

     “What? Oh.” Harry slipped the cloak off of his shoulders revealing a pajama clad body and asked. “I thought I was the only one that roamed the halls this late other than Snape or Filch. What's the matter can't sleep?”

     Prevaricating Strife replied. “Nah, just getting the lay of the land. Say you're the kid that's been staring at me during meals, Harry right?” he said changing the subject. “So what's the deal with that Voldemort guy from what I've heard you'd be the person to ask.”

     Shaking his head at the swift segue from the ordinary to the twilight zone Harry asked in a started voice. “How come you say his name? I am about the only person I know of that even says it without acting like I'm about to be attacked by him.” He explained.

     Strife shrugged “'Cause before today I'd never heard of the idiot.”

     Harry's eyes widened at the blatant disregard that Strife showed and blurted out. “Where have you been living with muggles or something?”

     “Greece” came the succinct reply.

     “Oh, you speak English really well.”

     Keeping to the cover story that Dumbledore had worked out Strife replied. “I have a gift for languages.” And changed the subject back to his earlier question. “So why have you been staring at me during meals?”

     Harry blushed and stammered, “W-well a couple of reasons really. I've never seen anyone intimidate Malfoy the way you have, so quickly and easily I mean and well… This is gonna sound really stupid, but I keep seeing a weird light around you. I mean not all the time or anything but…” he trailed off uncertainly. “And now Fred and George too, only not as bright.”

     Strife took a closer look at Harry finding faint traces of godly ancestry in his aura as well as stronger traces of divine protection with Hera's signature. Now that was completely unexpected as he was the only god of the Greek Pantheon awake and aware. Using his talent at misdirection he gave an answer containing the partial truth. It has to do with my ancestry; I don't like to talk about it. You're seeing because of yours.”

     “And Fred and George? Harry questioned.

     Shifting uncomfortably Strife grudgingly answered. “We've worked together and it more or less rubbed off on them.”

     “Oh my god,” Harry stifled his giggles and gasped out. “Snape.”

     He grinned at the teenager and nodded enjoying the jolt of energy he received from Harry's delight even though the passive energy he'd received from the earlier response to the prank had done a lot to restore his vitality Harry's response was quite enjoyable, especially because it was directed at him and his divine ancestry gave it a real boost.

     Still giggling faintly Harry suggested, “maybe you should make his hair turn colors if he doesn't bathe or wash his hair he's always so greasy.”

     “That's not why he looks like that, you know. He's been cursed too many times and he's not in the best of health because of it.”

     Harry sobered abruptly “You mean…he's sick?”

     “Worse than that,” Strife replied equally serious, “if he doesn't get some help and stop getting cursed it's gonna kill him before too long.”

     “How do you know?”

     “I've seen it before, he admitted, “it's why he stays in the dungeons away from sunlight and why he's so cranky, he's in pain probably pretty much non stop all the time now.”

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