Peace, Love, and Family: 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
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—r wor 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 opnd rnd 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 esaw 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 wanto bto 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 sthtfohtforward, 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. Da act 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