Heroes Assemble!

The Master

Harry James Potter came to himself all at once. One second he wasn't, the next, he was.

Instantly, he bolted into a sitting position, his hands patting himself down before his eyes had even opened.

Head.

Chest.

Legs.

Arms.

Hair.

Stomach.

Hands.

It seemed that he was all here. Wherever here was.

Now that he'd determined that he was whole and hadn't been vaporised or whatever in Merlin's name had happened when that beam of purple power had hit him, he took a moment to look around.

And instantly groaned at the familiarity of the place.

Frickin' King's Cross Station.

And not the normal, drab, dirty, grungy one. The other one. The one where everything was pure, immaculate white. A train, not unlike the Hogwarts Express sat at the station although once again, this one was clean, gleaming as though it'd either been freshly built or cleaned and polished just a few seconds ago. To either side of him were a pair of benches.

Carefully, he stood up and nearly tripped over the hem of his Invisibility Cloak.

"What the ...?" he muttered.

The last he remembered, his Cloak had been folded up and tucked inside its pocket on his belt. His initial reaction was to pull it off but on second thought, he decided to leave it, after all, it wasn't as though he didn't have plenty of practice moving about under it.

But if he was wearing the Cloak ...

Harry stopped, half-standing and checked himself over once again. Yes, he was wearing clothes, just as he thought. And not just any clothes, but his Mage uniform, the same clothes that he'd been wearing back in Antarctica – pants, shirt, belt and his normal cloak. Just with his Invisibility Cloak draped completely over him.

Which didn't make sense.

The last time that he'd come here (and he had no intention of even thinking where here might be), he'd arrived completely naked. It'd only been by thinking of clothes that any had appeared for him to put on.

Something was different this time.

Out of habit, he flicked his wrist and caught his wand as it shot out of his wrist holster. The feel of it though ...

Harry looked down at it and frowned. The Elder Wand, not his holly wand. Yes, he'd been using it during the battle; actually, he'd been using both of the wands but he'd only ever kept his holly wand in his wrist holster, never the Elder Wand.

A thought occurred and his eyes narrowed.

Cloak. Wand.

Slowly, carefully, he reached into the neck of his shirt and found a pair of necklaces and pulled them clear so that he could look down at them. The first was his Avenger tags, the same that everyone coming to the battle wore – an emergency portkey back to the island with the pass-phrase written on it for anyone to be able to say. The other was a leather thong that held within an elaborate knot a glowing, orange gem.

Cloak. Wand. Stone.

The three Hallows, united.

Suspiciously, Harry looked around the train station again.

Yes, it was just as he remembered it. Which was why he was consciously avoiding the benches. After all, the last time that he'd been here, the thing he'd seen under one of them wasn't particularly ... pleasant. Not that it could be, it being a part of Voldemort, after all.