Disclaimer: As always, this is JKR's sandbox that I'm just playing in. Nothing recognizable is mine and no infringement intended.
A/N: The first couple of chapters will be more or less setup background, hence the numerous time jumps.
Harry sat at his desk, a large stack of paperwork to his left, a somewhat smaller stack to the right. As he finished writing on the form in front of him, he shifted it to the right-hand stack and grabbed the top folder from the left. As he started to write, his quill broke. Throwing it down in disgust he reached to grab another, when an intricately folded paper airplane bounced off his forehead. Ignoring it for the moment, he continued his search for a new quill. The folded paper was not to be ignored, as it continued to harass him, until finally, he grabbed it out of the air. After reading the memo and glancing at the clock on the wall, Harry bolted from the office.
He arrived at the Minister's office one minute before the meeting was supposed to start, so he paused for a few seconds, to catch his breath, before entering. Once inside the office, he noticed Kingsley, Percy Weasley and Hermione sitting on one side of a conference table. Across from them were sitting three men. One reminded Harry of Mad-eye Moody, minus the scars, plus all the body parts. The second looked like a clone of Percy, with different hair color and wearing a suit instead of robes. The third looked very familiar, but Harry couldn't quite place who he was.
Kingsley stood and started introductions, with Harry, saying, "One of my best field officers, Harry Potter." The first man he introduced was the one that looked vaguely familiar to Harry.
"Gordon Brown, Prime Minister of the Muggles."
Harry looked on in puzzlement, wondering even more, what was going on. After the introductions, the man who Harry thought resembled Moody stood to speak.
"I have here," he nodded to the Percy clone, who passed out folders of information, bearing various government seals, both Muggle and Magical, "a brief overview of our current issue. It seems that some terrorist group has enlisted a little help that is outside of our normal area of expertise. That's why we have come to you."
Turning to Harry, he said, "Mr. Potter, your superiors speak very highly of you and, if you chose to accept this assignment, you will be seconded to my office. I am the Director of the Counter Terrorism Command, until two years ago, we were known as..."
"Special Branch," muttered Harry.
"Correct. You would have similar rank and be a full member of the department, with full privileges."
Harry looked at Kingsley and asked, "Why me?"
Grinning, Kingsley replied, "Because, out of the whole department you fit in the best. Plus, after this, you'll be promoted and I'll give you a month leave. You do have a new daughter, if I recall."
"Fine, I'll..."
"Take a few minutes and read the contents of that folder, before you decide. This is mostly an undercover operation. While we don't expect it to be dangerous there is a chance that you will be on assignment and out of contact for up to six months. We hope it doesn't come to that, though."
Harry read the folder and when finished said, "Nope, didn't change my mind, I'll do it."
"Fine then, report to Thames House, Monday, next."
Harry nodded. "But, I thought..."
"Yes, you are but this is a JTAC operation, so it is being run out of Thames House."
Harry's eyes went wide, so did Hermione's.
The Percy clone and Percy, both pulled Harry to one side of the room. The first to give Harry various documents to sign and then give him various identification documents in return. Percy, also had various forms for Harry to fill out. When he was finished, Alexander Waterstone, the Director and Minister Brown., came over to Harry.
"Mr. Potter, on behalf of my government, I'd like to formally thank you for your service done ten years ago and your continuing service today," said the Prime Minister, extending his hand.
"You're welcome," said Harry, a little uncomfortable, at the praise he was receiving.
"Now, when my predecessor informed me about your little world, I thought he was a bit off his nut, if you get my meaning, but then after my first meeting with Minister Shacklebolt, well..."
"I understand, sir."
"I've seen your dossier and well, after some of it was explained to me, I am quite impressed. I actually asked for you for this assignment."
"Really?" Harry laughed, "I wonder what my Uncle would say now."
The meeting then dissolved into more details of Harry's assignment as Mr. Waterstone pulled him to a corner of the room.
"So, what time shall I tell Ginny that you will be home,?" asked Hermione, as they left, heading back to their respective offices. "I'm getting off in an hour, but I'd imagine you have more paperwork to finish?"
"No later than seven. If I finish up, then I can have the rest of the week off. If I get too bored, I'll call it a night and come in and finish in the morning. Now, why were you at this meeting?"
"Basically because I was the second 'Mugglest' person in the Ministry, after you. Remember Dad is on leave and he and Molly are in Romania on holiday. As a department head, he should have been there, but I have enough rank and position that my being there wasn't too odd."
"I still can't believe he did that," Harry shook his head. "Arthur insisting all of us call him Dad. Did you see the look on Audrey's face?"
Hermione smiled.
Sunday evening, Harry sat with his sons, James and Albus. "Daddy is going to be away for two weeks. I won't get to see you for all that time."
"Two weeks? That's," James held up ten fingers, "more days than I have fingers, Daddy."
Harry held up four fingers, "Yes, it is. This many more."
"Wow, that's the longest you've ever been gone before."
"I know, and I'll miss you."
"Bunches?"
"Bunches and bunches. So James, you need to help mum with your baby sister."
"Me too..." piped up Albus, an unusually quiet two year old.
"So off to bed, you two. I'll be up to tuck you in."
The two boys ran off.
Smiling Ginny handed Harry the baby she had been holding. "Don't forget to change her nappy before putting her down."
Grumbling, Harry headed up the stairs.
Later, as Harry lay in bed, reading, Ginny asked, "Did you really have to take this one?"
"Well, I guess not. But it's nothing difficult or anything. I'll be getting that promotion out of it."
"I suppose that's a good thing. But I was talking to Percy yesterday and well, he seemed to think that it wouldn't be all that easy of an assignment."
"I guess I'll find that out tomorrow. I love you," said Harry, closing his book and leaning over to kiss his wife.
The only rough point in Harry's two week training session came on Wednesday morning, when he was led to an indoor firing range. The grizzled old sergeant in charge of the range had several pistols laid out on a table.
"Normally, you won't be carrying a side-arm in the field, but you are expected to be able to use one, if the need arises," he growled. "I expect you couldn't hit the broadside of a barn if walked up to it an hit it with the butt of one of these, but I was told to do this anyway."
"But I don't really need one."
"Yeah, silly wand waver. Before you ask, I'm a Squib. Glad you put paid to that nutjob few years back, but still orders and all. And before you leave here, today, I'd like to see what you can do with that fancy stick of yours...that's why we are the only two here. Oh and the camera's are 'broken' today.
After about an hours worth of basic instruction, Harry was given a magazine for the first pistol, a Walther PPK-L. After seven shots, he had proven the sergeant wrong. In fact, his grouping was able to be covered with a £2 coin.
"Try that again," growled the sergeant.
After the second, third, fourth and fifth magazines, all with similar results, the sergeant moved Harry to the next pistol. After similar results for all the pistols on the table, the sergeant, growling loudly locked down the range and had Harry show what he could do with his wand.
"Right," said the sergeant, after the last target disintegrated in a beam of light. "You're the first wand waver I've ever seen that knew which end of pistol was the business end, let alone what to do with one. Between your groupings and the accuracy with your stick, I'd say you've earned your marksman's certificate, if this were a real scoring test. I'll talk to them upstairs and see about scheduling one for you. This was just supposed to be a 'meet and greet', so to speak. And you've never touched a pistol, before today?"
"No, sir."
"So you're just a bleedin' natural with anything that shoots?"
"No, not really. It took me a couple of months with a bow to get tight groups."
"That wasn't in your write up...why not?"
"I don't know. I use archery as a way to unwind, kind of a hobby."
"Maybe that's why then, nobody knew about it. If I can get you a bow, will you test on that too?"
"My wife can get my kit, if you send someone around to pick it up. I'd be more comfortable using my own."
"Fine. I'll probably be able to set something up next Wednesday. I'll have someone fetch your kit and you can show me your stuff on Saturday?"
"Well, how did he do?" asked Waterstone.
"99 out 100 on the pistol. He prefers that damn PPK-L, thinks he's bleedin' James Bond or something. 100 out of 100 on the archery course and turns out he's a fair hand with a blade...both long and short. Dead scary with that stick of his."
"So, we give him the cover of an archer? Or do we send him in to compete in one of the sword or knife events?"
"Archery. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was a Locksley."
Waterstone laughed. "He'll be ready for that event up north in a couple of weeks?"
"He should be. He leaves here Sunday and he'll be back at his old office for a week, then three days back here. After that, he should be fit for duty. Oh, did you talk to him about going home at night, yet?"
"No, but do you really think it would work. I mean most of the time we put them up in a hotel or something when they are out in the field."
"Remember what I told you about being able to get anywhere in the blink of an I?" Waterstone nodded. "Well, remember he's a family man, with a baby girl at home. I say, unless he NEEDS to be overnight in the field, let him go home. Believe me, none of the usual low-lifes we deal with will ever know and if he really does run into his type, I expect he's more than capable of handling them and probably more so, at home."
"It still amazes me that..."
"Yeah, but remember, they aren't any better than the rest of us and they sure as hell ain't saints. I could still gladly throttle my dad, for what he did to me, if that blokes father didn't put paid to his ticket."
"You mean his father was what do they call them...and Aurorer or something?"
"Yeah and back in '79 while just a rookie, on his first assignment, he ran into my dad and the crowd my dad ran with...well a couple of them. Anyway, a firefight broke out and next thing I know, I'm getting an owl from my mother, saying that I need to come home for a funeral. I was in Belfast at the time and well, you know how things were then. I couldn't get home. Next I heard from mum, it was November of '81 and Potter's parents were dead, the nutjob in charge dead or in hiding and that bloke the only witness and survivor. Then, back in '98, Tom, that's the nutjob's real name, tries to finish the job he started back in '81 and the kid punches his ticket, instead."
"That's about what we got through channels. He's some kind of prodigy or something, in this kind of work."
"I suppose. We've talked a little over the past week. After I fetched his archery kit, for him, he'd spend an hour or two every night down here. He's had a tough life. Saw nearly as much death and destruction as I have, when I was in Belfast, but at a much earlier age. How the hell he still has his head screwed on straight is beyond me. But, as far as I can tell it's solely due to his wife that it is..."
"So you think I really should go ahead and authorize his being able to go home, every night possible?"
The sergeant didn't say anything as he nodded.
Harry stared blankly at the paper in his hand. He glanced up at the sign, a few paces ahead. It was strange looking at the sign without feeling the weight of his glasses, but the contact lenses he was wearing still allowed him to see it clearly.
"Must be somewhere down this row," he mumbled to himself. He set off at a quick pace, adjusting the pack as he went. Not more than twenty paces down the row, he ran into something. Glancing up he saw a large man, about 6 feet 4 inches tall, with a broad chest and shoulders. His arms looked to be as large as Harry's thighs. He was wearing soft leather boots, dark, trousers of some sort of rough weave material, a leather apron and vest. There were wide leather bands on his wrists. In his right hand he held a large hammer. His hair was long, blond and in several braids. A walrus mustache covered his upper lip.
"Watch where you're going," ground out the rough, vaguely familiar voice attached to the hand reaching down to help Harry to stand.
"Harry?" asked the same voice as Harry got to his feet.
Harry looked at the man and asked, "Dudley? What the hell happened to you?"
Dudley laughed and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Long time, no see."
"Yeah, but that doesn't answer my question."
"Well, let's see...that will take too long. Why don't you come over to my tent and we'll knock back a couple of flagons of mead and talk about what we've done for the last ten years. Oh, what brings you here?"
"Work," said Harry, rather cryptically.
"Work?"
"It'll take too long."
"I need to warn you, my wife is back at the tent and she'll probably be feeding the baby around now. He's just a month old, so..."
"Don't worry, my youngest is just three months old."
"Youngest? How many sprogs you got? I've only got two, myself...the baby and a two year old daughter."
They started walking off, in the opposite direction of where Harry had been heading.
"Three, two boys, 4 and 2, and the baby, a girl."
It didn't take them long to reach Dudley's tent. He entered first, followed by Harry. There was a woman, sitting in a chair with her back to the door. She was, from what Harry could see, slender and a red head. She lay the baby in a cradle, near the chair and stood. When she turned around, Harry gasped and started laughing.
"So, Dudley, who is this laughing git?"
Before he could answer, the woman turned to Harry and said, "I may have given birth a month ago, but I don't think I'm that funny looking any longer."
"Jennifer, dear," said Dudley, "this is my cousin, Harry. Harry...Jennifer."
"You wouldn't happen to have an older sister, by the name of Mafalda, would you?"
"Umm...yes."
"Maiden name Prewett?"
"Yes..."
Harry continued to laugh, looking at Dudley and slapping him on the shoulder. "Wait until my wife, who you happen to look like you could be her sister, Jennifer, hears about this."
Puzzled, both looked at Harry, who stopped laughing and was now looking at the little girl, now standing next to the cradle.
"My daughter," said Dudley, scooping up the red haired, green eyed little girl. "She's got your eyes...the same as Aunt Lily, who we named her after."
"But back to this wife of yours, and how do you know so much about my family?" snapped Jennifer.
"Oh, right, I married your cousin Ginny..."
"Oh..." said Jennifer, who started laughing.
Dudley whispered to his daughter, "Both a couple of nutters, but we already knew that, didn't we, pumpkin?"
Dudley lowered his daughter to the floor and grabbed a couple of bottles and mugs, before dragging Harry outside the tent and getting him to sit next to a small fire there.
"This is good," said Harry, drinking from the mug Dudley had just pressed into his hand. "Since when do you like mead?"
"Since about 12 years ago."
"But I didn't think you touched it that night?"
"No, but Mum and Dad didn't either and well, the bottle and glasses were still around after you and the old geezer scuppered off, so, being the piss artist I was at the time, I drank it after they went to bed. Never could find any that good at Uni, so I decided to start making my own."
"You made this?"
"Yep, make my own beer and ale, too. If it weren't for the damn taxes and such, I'd probably make my own whiskey."
"Wow. You've changed," said Harry, draining his mug.
"Yeah, getting thrown out on your ear does that. Dad didn't take it well when I told him to bugger off and switched my course of study at Uni. The only good thing out of the Business course I was on was meeting Professor Prewett's daughter," said Dudley smiling. "I had my fill of it, so part way through the term, I switched over to Paranormal Studies and Criminal Science."
"What?"
"Basically, I decided to become a ghost hunter."
Harry laughed. "Really?"
"Yep. This blacksmith thing is just something I do for fun, between cases."
"Cases? You mean, like clients and everything?"
"Well, really I'm a licensed investigator, but I specialize in the strange and unusual."
"About the smithing, how'd that start?"
"You remember the night you left? We ended up in this little village in the Cotswolds. A couple of days after we got there, I found out I wasn't as stupid as I thought I was. Smeltings really was a tough school. Being middle of my class there turned out that I was top of the class at the local comprehensive where we ended up. The bloke running the place convinced me to sit my A-levels early. I guess he had ALL my records there...you know the ones from Little Whinging and everything."
Harry nodded.
"I guess I did well enough, so with nothing to do, I kicked around the village for a week or two until I stumbled across this old farrier. I got interested and spent until Christmas learning anything he'd teach me. We got moved again after the new year, but Diggle found a place that was right next to a guy who does smithing for a lot shows and films. Spent until May learning from him. What about you?"
"Well, that whole year I spent tramping all over the country trying to find a way to off that tosser."
" The one that was after you?"
"Yeah. In May I got lucky and punched his ticket. Then, I was offered a job with our police force. Been doing that for the past ten years. Oh, yeah, got married, had three kids and impressed the hell out of someone so now I'm on a temporary duty assignment with the Special Branch."
"Really?"
Harry pulled out his identification.
"Dad would blow a vein if he knew."
"I bet. Probably bitches about Brown enough as it is, right?"
"I wouldn't know I haven't seen him in four years. Mum comes around once in a while but the old goat never does. Didn't even show up at Lily's Christening, so we haven't invited him to Brandon's. Which, by the way you are invited to...it's next weekend."
"Are you staying for dinner?" asked Jennifer, exiting the tent, Lily in tow.
"I wasn't planning on it."
"What, you haven't invited him, yet?" shrieked Jennifer, slapping Dudley on the back of his head.
Harry laughed, "It must be a family thing," as rubbed the back of his, absently.
Jennifer reached around and slapped Harry, too. "Damn, right it is. Taught to all us Prewett women from the cradle. Just the thing to handle yobs like you," she said, smiling.
"Damn, you're scary. You look enough like my wife to be her sister and sound just like my mother-in-law. I guess I'm staying."
"Fine, clear out, so I can start cooking. Oh and no going down to the forge and pissing the night away, you'll have customers in the morning."
"Right, wench," said Dudley, smiling. Turning to Harry he added. "So, let's get out of her way. She's more scary than Mum, when Dad was having a client over...and that's for a normal meal."
"Err...right."
"So are you really going to be doing something here or are you just going to watch?"
"Nope, I'm entered in the archery competition."
"Now that's funny."
"Why?"
"Guess what mum found out a few years back? That we are descended from the Locksleys way back when."
Harry laughed, "Sarge will piss himself laughing when I tell him that on Monday."
"Boss?"
"Sort of. More like 'instructor' in all things lethal."
"So do you still need to go down and run through the prelims?"
"No, I did those before looking for my campsite. Which I should still go find and set up my tent."
"Don't bother. I've got enough room here. I rate a double, because I'm actually an organizer for this madness."
"I didn't see your name on any of the materials."
"Probably not. I'm usually down as 'The Village Smith' on all that rot."
"So since you don't have any events until after lunch tomorrow, you can come hang out at the forge with me, in the morning."
"Nope, I'm supposed to mingle. I'm on the hunt for some nutters connected to the bombings in London last year."
"Oh."
"Yeah, I told you it was a real assignment."
Monday morning's briefing was boring, even with the information that Harry had presented. Other than seeing two people with the tattoos that were suspected as being somehow related to the case, Harry had no new leads to report, and no one else did either. Even the somewhat promising leads from the month before had led to dead ends or seemingly vanished, into thin air. And the boredom for Harry became excruciating, when after lunch, he had to repeat the briefing at the Ministry and then explain, usually several times all the unusual Muggle terms. He was never happier to step out of the fireplace in lounge of his house.
"Daddy!" exclaimed James, who grabbed Harry around the left leg, as he was brushing off some soot.
Albus did the same, to Harry's right leg.
"How was the assignment and why do you look so worn out? I thought this was going to be an 'easy' one?"
"The assignment was easy. It was all the meetings and paperwork today that was hard," Harry said, trying to move to the couch where Ginny was sitting. Giving it up he bent down and picked up the two boys, before dropping to the floor in front of Ginny. "and your brother made it even worse."
"Percy? Let me guess...he could give Binns lessons on how to be boring?"
"Right in one. He kept going over the same things."
"Mum owled. They will be back this weekend and we are invited to dinner on Sunday..."
"Umm...there's a problem with that."
"What?"
"Well, I sort of ran into my cousin this weekend."
"That pig of a bully that..."
"Yeah, him. Well he's changed. I mean really, really changed. And he's even married, you'll die laughing when I tell you who is married to. But, he's invited us to a Christening on Sunday. It's for his son, Brandon."
"But Mum," Ginny looked at Harry's face and saw a sad look cross it, "fine, tell me who he married so I have a good excuse for Mum."
Harry smiled and said, "When I first saw her, I thought I was seeing things, as at least from the back, she looked like you. Then she turned around and I almost fell over, laughing so hard. Then she slapped Dudley on the back of the head and then me."
"No..."
"Yes, he married your cousin, Jennifer."
"At least I'll have a good excuse for Mum," mused Ginny. "But how did he meet her?"
"He was taking an Accounting course at Uni and her father was teaching it. He's not just an accountant any longer, he's a professor. She was in the class too and well, things went on from there."
Ginny stood and handed Harry the baby, saying, "Burp her and I'll go see what Kreacher is doing for dinner. He said something about trying something new."
Harry placed the baby over his shoulder. "Whatever it is, it's smelling pretty good. Oh, in the top pocket on my pack, you'll find a couple of bottles of mead. Get one out and have Kreacher chill it, I think you'll like it. Not as good as the elf-made stuff, but better than average."
As Ginny left the room, Harry heard a loud belch and felt something warm and wet on his shoulder.
During dinner, which turned out to be a curry dish that Kreacher had seen on a television show.
"I'm not sure I really like that television idea, any more," said Ginny. "Yes, it was good but, what if Mum starts watching? Those two arguing over cooking shows, it will be like the end of world or something."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. But how are we going to tell your mother we won't be there Sunday? I know you said Jennifer makes a good excuse, but..."
"Well, even though she's something like my third cousin, she's still family and that will be good enough for Mum. Especially if we don't tell here who her husband is. I'll just say I ran into her somewhere and she invited me. So, where are we going?"
"Stow-on-the-Wold, at least that's where the church is. Dudley and Jennifer live not to far from there. We are supposed show up Friday night and stay over until Sunday. Dudley said they have plenty of space for us and not to worry about anything but clothes and to bring something to swim in."
"So what does Dudley do?"
"He's some sort of private investigator and a blacksmith."
"And my cousin? I've not seen her since we were about 5 or 6. Her sister, on the other hand...I'm glad she chose not to go to Hogwarts. With her and the twins in the same year, there probably wouldn't have been anything left standing. Jen was the nice one."
"Well, she still is. Funny, bright, can be a bit forceful at times...a lot like you. But there's a bit of Luna in her, too. It's strange, really."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you know how Luna gets all dreamy and 'not really there' sometimes?"
"Yeah."
"Jen's kind of like that. She'll talk about snorkacks, just like Luna, and other strange things. She's really into what Muggles call 'cryptozoology' and Tarot, crystals and such."
Ginny shook her head. "I guess that's about as close as a Squib or Muggle can get without actually being 'in'."
"Yeah, but the funny thing is, the Statute doesn't apply to either one of them and I think both the kids are magical. I'm almost completely sure that Lily is."
"That's too funny, we both named our daughters Lily."
"Yeah, I couldn't believe it. But that, more than anything, convinced me that Dudley really changed. I asked him once if those Dementors gave him a new personality. I guess they really did. Probably need to fill out some form in triplicate and have a battery of tests done as St. Mungos to prove it, though."
Ginny laughed, "No, Percy will come up with form, so it will be more than triplicate."
"Back to the original topic. I'll be able to leave early on Friday. I'm at Thames House then and should be done around three. It's about a three hour drive from here to Stow."
"Drive? Are you sure? Remember last time we took Albus on a long drive?"
"Yes, it took Kreacher and I a week to get everything cleaned up. Maybe he's outgrown it by now, that was a year ago."
"Fine, but if it happens again, I say we just vanish the car and get a new one."
Harry laughed. "Anyway, I want the car so there are no questions asked when we get to the church. Saturday we are supposed to relax and enjoy the sites or something. I guess we are going to some of the shops and stuff in the area. Dudley said there's lots of fascinating antiques shops and such. Probably some sort of festival or something, too. Lots of old market towns and farms in the area."
"Sounds like fun. We haven't done anything like that in a long time. Last time was with Hermione, before Hugo was born..."
Harry looked at Ginny, seriously, before breaking down in laughter.
"Oh, right. That's when..."
"Yeah, over a year ago."
"Well, I've got a week to decide what to pack. Was there anything special we needed other than swimming outfits?"
"Something dressy for Sunday and Dudley said not to worry too much about robes. Not sure why, but after seeing what some of the folks at the event I was at wore, I think we could wear anything and still fit in."
"Really?"
"Yeah, there was a guy there, playing at being a 'court wizard' who made what Lockhart wore look tame. He was as Muggle as they come, though. For a while I thought I would have to arrest him for violating the Statute, but I watched him for a couple of hours. A good stage magician but Filch has more real magic than this guy."