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The Smallest Bedroom in Number 4 Privet Drive, Surrey, England, Earth 1; July 31, 1995; Midnight

Harry Potter was used to bad dreams, not totally immune to them, mind you . . . but used to them. For about as long as he could remember, he had had the occasional nightmare about . . . let's see . . . death, turning evil, losing his parents, getting beaten up by his cousin and abused by his family . . . girls . . . typical child-adolescent stuff.

Last year, he had even had a dream about the doings of his arch-enemy, Lord Voldemort (a.k.a. Tom Marvolo Riddle).

But now, he was having a dream that he'd never had before, but it didn't feel like a dream. It felt like a memory.

{He was walking down a hallway in what was pretty obviously an important building. The walls were polished marble; there were Greek-style columns; and the walls were decorated with beautiful paintings and jeweled mirrors. Harry didn't know why he was walking down that hallway, although he would have liked to. He also would have liked to be able to slow down or at least turn his head so he could take a better look at his surroundings. But his body was not under his control. He was aware of it-of every step it took and the smile that his face wore-but he had no way of controlling what it did.
/]
[/Harry approached a door at the end of the palace. Outside stood two guards wearing Roman-looking armor and armed with long swords and polished shields. Harry paused in front of the guards, thus giving him a chance to finally see his own reflection in their shields. At least, he assumed it was him. The person whose eyes he was looking through was not a scrawny boy with glasses, oversized clothes, and messy hair. Instead, the young wizard was a well-fed-looking young man with long robes that had phoenixes sown on it and seemed tailored to fit and . . . well, his hair was still messy. And his face was older, but like a mature version of his own.
/]
[/But he had only an instant to examine himself before he felt his mouth moving-heard a voice that was like his. "I request an audience with the king."
/]
[/One of the guards nodded and entered the room, "Priest Harren Pottris wishes to see you, Your Majesty."
/]
[/From inside the room, a gruff voice called, "let him in."
/]
[/Harry felt his mouth smile before his legs took him into the room. His first thought upon seeing the room was [/Hermione would love this place. He was obviously in a library, and an amazing one at that. The walls were covered in books, more even than the Hogwarts Library. Huge windows let in light and revealed a twilight sky. From the ceiling, there stood intricately carved statues and there hung large, purple tapestries. And at an ivory writing table, sat the man Harry-Harren Pottris-had come to see./]
/]
[/Harry decided promptly that the man before him was the least kingly-looking individual he had ever seen; he looked more like Hagrid's cousin. Even sitting down, Harry could see that he was unusually tall, taller than the guards outside, and dressed in fine robes that did nothing to hide his impressive muscles. His skin was deeply tanned from years outdoors, and he had a mane of black hair streaked with grey that was held out of his face by a gold band. The man turned to face him, and Harry saw a scared, square, but handsome face with intelligent, blue eyes.
/]
[/"It is good to see you again, King Conan," Harry heard his mouth say.
/]
[/"By Crom, it's good to be back!" the man said with a laugh and rose to greet him. "Even without Thoth-ammon's curses, Stygia is not a land to be taken lightly." The older man clapped a hand on the younger's back.
/]
[/"I heard the wizard snuck away before you had arrived," Harren noted. "I cannot understand it; he drives the king to attack our borders, then disappears when you come to punish them for it. What sort of man is he?
/]
[/"If you had traveled the world as I did at your age," remarked Conan as he led his friend to the desk where a pair of goblets and a bottle of wine were waiting for them, along with several sheets of parchment, an ink pot, and a pen that looked like it had never been a feather.
/]
[/"Writing your memoir's my friend?"
/]
[/"Memoirs are for men who are too old to do anything worth writing anymore," Conan declared. "My adventures are not through yet."
/]
[/"So you are not too old, yet, good king," Harren said lightly. Then, he frowned. "I suppose slithering off like a snake is all one should expect from a devotee of Set . . ."
/]
[/"Funny that a man gifted with the speech of snakes should be so ardent an enemy of the Old Serpent," Conan remarked, taking a large drink of wine.
/]
[/"Not all snakes are evil," Harren remarked, "as you, the champion of the Cult of Asura, should know. But my gift comes from Mitra, not Set, and it is Mitra I am priest to, not that demon of the South!" Harry noticed as soon as his . . . vessel was finished speaking, that the man was trembling.
/]
[/Conan showed no awareness that he had caused or seen the distress of his companion, except to pour him a generous helping of wine, which Harren took a small sip from.
/]
[/They sat in silence for a few moments before Harren spoke again. "If it's not memoirs your writing, Conan, what are you recording?"
/]
[/"Notes," the king grunted. "I'll never be old enough to write my memoirs, but, by Crom, I'll see that my biographer does things right!"
/]
[/"What are you working on now, then: recording the gold, wine, and slaves you brought back from your victory?"
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[/"I wouldn't need this much paper if that were the case. Stygia's fallen on hard times of late, probably because of that wizard's meddling; I was reluctant to loot them. Besides, this campaign was about protecting our borders, not acquiring spoils."
/]
[/"Spoils are a part of war," Harren remarked casually. "Even Aquilonia, the brightest shining of the civilized nations, cannot resist their allure."
/]
[/"We took some drink and reparations," Conan remarked. "None of my generals was eager for a Stygian slave, and neither am I!" he added with a shake of his head.
/]
[/"I always thought Stygian women were as beautiful as their Hyborean cousins," Harren remarked with a sly grin.
/]
[/Conan laughed. "As only you and I would, my friend! But, I don't think Zenobia would take kindly to my adding another girl to my seraglio; she's none t
/]
[/oo fond of the number I currently have."
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[/Harry felt Harren shake his head. "Yet she allows you to enjoy them anyway? Your queen and my wife . . . How is it that we have been blessed with the love of such women?"
/]
[/"You're the priest," Conan remarked. "You tell me."}

After that, Harry awoke in his bed with one thought surging through his mind; What was that about?

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EXPLANATIONS! Okay, if you're unfamiliar with the Conan methos (as written by Robert E. Howard) I recomend you A) do some research online (Wikipedia's got some pretty good information on the subject) or B) sit back and wait a for Harry to learn on his own. If you choose to go the Wikipedia route, look up Kull a part of Conan's world, and I expect to use things from their stories as well. the Conqueror and Bran Mak Morn, too; they're a part of Conan's world, and I expect to use things from their stories as well.

This isn't a crossover, I'm just borrowing some of Howard's world. Later on I expect to use things from the Wheel of Time and maybe Michael Moorcock's stories as well.

You're probably guessing what "Earth 1" signifies. There'll be an explanation for that on my author's page. All I'll say here is: I intend to make it epic.