Harry glared at his foe from across the large room, panting heavily and shivering as sweat rolled down his back. The upturned couch he was crouched behind was singed in multiple places, and the whole area was a mess of broken furniture and burn marks from where curses had hit the floor and walls.
He cursed and ducked as a bright blue streak shot at him, just barely managing to avoid getting hit right in the face. The person opposite him cackled loudly and waved the wand in his hand - Harry's wand - with wild abandon.
Glancing around the room for any type of weapon, Harry's gaze fell on a large box of chocolates sitting a few feet away from him. Determined, he army crawled towards it, hoping that the movement wasn't seen by his opponent.
"Ah-ha!" he shouted when he reached the box unscathed. He held it up in the air and waved it around, grinning to himself when the hexes and curses stopped flying. "If you give me back my wand, I'll let you eat as many chocolates as you want!"
Unsurprisingly, there was an excited squeal and a flurry of footsteps, and then a tiny body flung itself at him. Bright blue hair filled his vision as the boy reached up towards the chocolates.
"Gimme, gimme, gimme!" he chanted, bouncing slightly on Harry's chest. He threw Harry's wand to the floor and used both hands, laughing in triumph when Harry dropped the box to go after his wand.
Harry stood shakily to his feet and glared down at Teddy as the boy munched happily on a cherry cordial. With only a few muttered incantations he fixed all of his furniture and set the house to rights, but slight anger still boiled in his belly.
"Teddy Lupin," he growled in what he hoped was his best no-nonsense angry parent voice. Judging by how Teddy's eyes widened and he stopped chewing, it worked. "How many times have I told you not to play with my wand?"
The three-year-old swallowed and shrugged, gazing sorrowfully up at Harry. No matter how angry he was, which honestly wasn't even that much, Harry could never resist Teddy's puppy dog face. But still, he had to be firm, even if he still got a little queasy when it came to disciplining his godson, else this would only happen again.
"I told you last time what would happen if you didn't listen, didn't I?" he asked, and Teddy nodded. "Go to your room, Teddy. You may come out… when you've thought about what you've… done?" It came out as a question, and Harry was extremely glad that Teddy couldn't comprehend his hesitance and obvious lack of experience in this department of parenting.
Harry watched as Teddy trumped up the stairs towards his bedroom, pausing at the top of the stairs and casting one last longing gaze at the half-eaten box of chocolates sitting by Harry's feet before turning the corner and disappearing.
Harry sighed and sat down on the couch he had just repaired, frowning to himself. This was highly unusual. Theodore Lupin was one of the best behaved little boys Harry had ever met. Andromeda, who Teddy lived with, had made sure of that. It still amazed Harry when he saw children Teddy's age throwing tantrums over sweets while Teddy himself simply accepted the answer of 'no' and moved on with his life.
So what had made him suddenly grab Harry's wand and start throwing hexes at everything? And where had he even learned to do magic like that?
Harry decided that the best course of action would be to simply ask Teddy what had motivated him to such drastic action. Well, as drastic as a toddler could be, anyway. Mind made up, Harry pulled himself up and headed for the kitchen. The cabinet flapped a very rude greeting and Harry absentmindedly flipped it off as he rummaged around in the fridge for milk.
Teddy's favorite mug, the one with a picture of a bear on it, was pulled out next. Harry went through the motions of making the perfect cup of hot chocolate - something Hermione had showed him years ago - though his mind was on other things.
When the drink was finished, Harry threw in four large marshmallows and carried it up to Teddy's room. He knocked on the door and received a very sullen "Come in" as a response. Biting his lip to keep from grinning, Harry entered and found Teddy sitting in the middle of his bed, pouting.
He perked up when he noticed what Harry was holding, but quickly schooled his face. Harry handed the mug to him wordlessly and waited until he had taken a sip before speaking.
"Teddy," he started, "you know why I don't let you play with my wand, right?"
"Because it's dangerous," Teddy mumbled.
"Exactly," Harry said. "You saw what happened to all of the furniture in the sitting room, didn't you? What if that had happened to you or me? We could have been hurt, or worse."
Teddy set his cup on his bedside table and crawled into Harry's lap. "I'm sorry, Harry," he said. "I won't do it again, I promise."
"I know you won't, Teddy. But I have to know, why did you take my wand in the first place? And where did you learn how to spell?"
Teddy puffed out his chest proudly. "Draco taught me," he said, and Harry scowled. "Well, he didn't actually teach me, but when I go over to his house he sometimes lets me help him do magic. He says it's to… strengthen my control and to prepare me for Hogwarts."
"He lets you do magic?" Harry asked incredulously. "That's against the law!"
Teddy's eyes widened. "Will Draco get into trouble? I don't actually do magic, Harry, he just lets me hold his wand with him and help him say the spell."
Harry scoffed, as he always did when Teddy mentioned his cousin. It wasn't that he still hated Malfoy, it was just that old habits die hard, and from what Harry had gathered from the few times he had seen the git over the years, he was still as big an arse as he always was at school.
Teddy reached for his mug and took a marshmallow out, popping it into his mouth and chewing loudly.
"I was supposed to go to Draco's house yesterday," he said, spraying Harry's arm with marshmallow fluff, "but Grandromeda said I couldn't."
"Why not? Doesn't he make time for you?" Harry asked, then immediately felt bad afterwards. Luckily, Teddy was distracted by the first question.
"I asked, but Gran said that Draco was busy." Figures. "But she was weird when she said it."
Harry frowned. "How was she weird?"
"She seemed…" Teddy scrunched up his nose as he struggled to find the right word. "She seemed worried. And sad."
"That is very strange," Harry agreed. Teddy beamed at him and gulped the rest of his hot chocolate. He licked the melted marshmallows off of his lip and slid down to the floor.
"I said I'm sorry about your wand," Teddy said hopefully. "Can we go play now?"
Harry chuckled and opened the door, leading the way to the stairs. "Sure, Ted."
And as he enjoyed the rest of his Sunday with his godson, he put all thoughts of Draco Malfoy out of his mind.
… oO()Oo …
One would think that after almost his entire life spent fighting Dark wizards and saving the world over and over again, Harry would continue to do so and join the Aurors. Ane one would be right.
Despite only having been out of training for a mere two years, he and his partner Ron were two of the best Aurors the program had to offer. And they loved it.
They didn't, however, love the paperwork. Currently, they were sitting in their shared office, filling out the forms detailing every single thing that had happened on their last case. Or at least, Ron was filling out the forms. Harry was sitting in his swivel chair, trying to figure out how many times he could spin around before he threw up.
"Would you stop?" Ron asked hotly, throwing down his quill. "You're making me dizzy just watching you."
"Then don't watch me," Harry cheekily replied. He laughed when Ron glared at him. "Lighten up, mate, I'm just having a bit of fun."
"You're not supposed to be having fun," Ron told him. He gestured wildly to the tall stack of forms on Harry's desk. "You're supposed to be filling out those bloody forms."
Harry sighed and planted his feet on the floor. "But, Ron, I'm bored," he said petulantly. "I hate paperwork."
"And you think I don't?" Ron asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I swear it's like raising a two-year-old. Listen, Harry-"
But Harry never got to hear what Ron was going to say, because at that moment there was a knock at their door and then a bright pink head poked inside.
"Hello!" the Head Auror's secretary chirped. "Auror Hemlock would like to see you."
"A case?" Harry asked, and though the witch didn't say anything outright, she smiled and tapped the side of her nose. Harry gave an ecstatic shout and jumped out of his chair, almost falling on his face in an attempt to get out of the door as soon as possible.
Ron snorted. "Elegant, Harry." He carefully aligned all of the papers on his desk and put his quill and inkwell back into his drawer, smirking when Harry started to squirm with impatience. Finally, he straightened up and gave a satisfied nod. "Right. Let's go."
They walked down the corridor behind the secretary, Harry pestering her for details on the case and Ron trying - and failing - to get him to stop. When they reached the Head Auror's office, she gave them a disgruntled look and bustled them in, closing the door sharply behind her.
"What did you do to my secretary?" Head Auror Hemlock was everything that his name suggested. He was huge, taller even than Ron, and much more broad. His face seemed to be set in a constant scowl and the way his flinty black eyes squinted at everything he looked at made it seem like he was always disappointed.
"Harry broke her," Ron said, and Hemlock snorted.
"Alright, sit down, boys." They sat down in the uncomfortable wooden chairs in front of his desk. "I have a case for you."
"We figured," Harry interjected, though he clamped his mouth shut when Hemlock glared at him.
"As I was saying," he said irritably, "this case is not like many we have seen before. What do you know about dragons?"
Ron frowned. "Dragons?"
"Yes, dragons. I received a letter from one Charlie Weasley about what appears to be dragon poaching in Russia."
He passed them each a plain manilla folder. All that was in Harry's was a letter and a small map of Russia with details about the dragon reserve there. He pulled out the letter and quickly read it.
Head Auror Hemlock,
My name is Charlie weasley. I'm a dragonologist currently working at a reserve in Russia. The Head Dragonologist and I have found that thirteen dragons have apparently gone missing. When we investigated the places where the dragons nested, we discovered traces of Dark Magic, as well as trapping magic scattered across the reserve, as well.
All of this indicates that someone, or some people, are poaching dragons from off the reserve. As you can well imagine, this is a great security risk to not only the dragons, but the wizards and witches coming into contact with them, as well.
Dragons are an incredibly valuable resource for the Wizarding World, and if any of them should be lost or escape their captors, I fear for all the damage that could be done. I would like to request a professional come out and confirm that the traces of Dark magic are just that.
Sincerely,
Charlie Weasley, Dragonologist
Harry looked up to find that Ron had already finished reading, and was going over the map of Russia. He turned to Hemlock.
"So, you want us to go out to Russia to make sure that this actually is poaching?" he asked.
Hemlock nodded. "I don't want to send just any old Aurors. If this actually is poaching, I want the team assigned to it to be able to handle the situation."
"Got it."
"When are we leaving?" Ron asked.
"Tomorrow morning, if possible," Hemlock answered. "This seems a little time sensitive, don't you think? Pack enough for at least a week. We don't know how long this will take, but it's best to always be prepared. Alright, now, I want you to go home and learn all you can about dragons and Russia. Meet me here tomorrow morning at eight."
Hemlock picked up his quill and dipped it into his inkwell, and the two Aurors took that as a dismissal. They exited the office, and ignored the way the pink-haired witch purposefully didn't look at them.
"So, what do you think?" Harry asked. "Dragons."
Ron shrugged. "It's cool, if you like that sort of thing. Honestly, I'd be happy if we were sent to help an old lady cross the road."
"Yeah," Harry agreed. "That paperwork was killing me."
"You weren't even doing anything!" Ron said. "I was the one actually doing the work."
They rounded the corner without watching where they were going, and so they didn't see Pansy Parkinson until it was too late. It was only Harry's quick reflexes that saved the witch from falling. She glared at them as she adjusted her maroon Auror robes.
"Watch where you're going," she said crossly, and then she hurried off towards Hemlock's office. Harry raised his eyebrows at Ron.
"She didn't insult us."
"What?" the redhead asked.
"She didn't insult us," Harry said again. "She always insults us."
"Well, she's in a hurry, Harry."
"Yeah." Harry tilted his head thoughtfully. "I wonder what she's up to."
Ron groaned. "Bloody hell, stop with the face."
"What face?"
"That face that you make right before you go off and do something stupid. Who says that Parkinson's up to something, anyway? For all you know, she could just really have to pee."
"Loo's that way," Harry said, pointing down the corridor. "And she had a very suspicious look in her eye. I'm going to follow her."
Ron mumbled something that sounded like "Of course you are", but he still followed Harry. The two of them tracked Parkinson to Hemlock's office.
"Distract the secretary," Harry whispered. Ron sighed, but walked over to the witch's desk anyway. Harry took advantage of her lack of attention and crept up to Hemlock's door, wishing that he still carried his Invisibility Cloak with him at all times.
He pressed his ear up against the wood and breathed as quietly as he could. He could just barely make out voices.
"...I'm the best one for the job," Parkinson said. "The rookies you've assigned to the case won't be able to find him."
"And you will?" Hemlock asked, and he sounded skeptical.
"Yes. I know him better than anyone else. If he was taken, I'll know who was most likely to do such a thing. And if he wasn't taken, I'll most likely know where he's gone to."
There was a pregnant pause, and even Harry felt himself tense slightly.
"Very well," Hemlock said. "Against my better judgement, I'll assign you to the case, if only because you've proven yourself to be a more-then-capable Auror. But the minute you start letting your emotions get the best of you…"
"Of course, sir."
Harry scrambled backwards when he registered footsteps coming towards the door, and pulled himself to his feet just as the door swung open. Parkinson raised one eyebrow at him, but then her face broke out into a smug smirk.
"Hello, Potter," she said, pulling the door shut behind her. She began walking and Harry followed. Ron cast a quick farewell to the secretary and ran to catch up with them.
"So, Parkinson," he said. "Planning anything evil or nefarious?"
"Is that why Potter was listening in on my conversation?" she asked. "I thought those days were behind you."
"What were doing in Hemlock's office, then?" Harry asked. Parkinson rolled her eyes.
"I was asking if my partner and I could take over a case that he assigned to a pair of rookies," she said exasperatedly. "Happy now?"
"What's the case?" Ron asked, and he sounded genuinely curious.
"Missing person," Parkinson told him. "The Potions professor at Hogwarts was reported missing on Saturday. I thought that I'd be able to solve the case faster than Dobbs and Robbins, that's all."
She suddenly stopped and spun on her heel so that she was facing them.
"If that's all you need, would you kindly not loiter in front of my office?"
"Come on, Harry, we have to go pack," Ron said, grabbing Harry by the elbow and leading him towards their own office. He shut the door, and then turned to Harry expectantly.
"Why would she want a missing person's case?" Harry asked without preamble. "There's not much glory in finding some bloke who managed to wander off into the Forbidden Forest and get kidnapped by centaurs, or something."
"Like she said, she'd probably be able to solve the case sooner," Ron said. "But who cares? We have our own case to worry about."
"Yeah." Harry leaned back in his chair. "So, wanna come over to mine and help me pack?"
"You wish," Ron said as if the idea was absolutely ridiculous. Harry grinned.
"Worth a shot."
Harry gathered up the forms on his desk and shoved them haphazardly into a drawer. When he was done, he and Ron locked up their office and headed to the Floo stations. Since the work day still technically wasn't over, the lines were nearly nonexistent. They each grabbed a handful of the green powder when it was their turn.
"See you at mine," Ron said, and then he disappeared in a swirl of green flames. Harry stepped up to his fireplace and threw the powder in. When the flames turned green, he stepped inside.
"Weasley Grove!" he said, very carefully (he still hadn't completely recovered from the Knockturn Alley incident). He squeezed his eyes shut as the nauseating spinning sensation started, and didn't open them until he had stumbled out of the fireplace in Ron and Hermione's living room.
"Hello, Harry," Hermione said cheerfully as he righted himself. She walked over to hug him, keeping one hand on her slightly swollen belly as she did. "You and Ron are home early. Got a new case?"
"Yeah," Harry said, grinning. "We're going to Russia to help Charlie find some dragon poachers at a reserve."
Hermione's eyes widened. "Someone's been poaching dragons? That's terrible! You know what, I think I have some books on dragons. Here, I'll go get them for you. Ron's in the kitchen, by the way."
She walked off towards the library and Harry headed to the kitchen, not surprised to find Ron standing with his head buried in the fridge.
"Anything good?" he asked. Ron pulled back and tossed him a beer.
"So, has 'Mione gone to look up dragons yet?" he asked.
Harry chuckled. "Of course. And knowing her, she'll insist on going over the information with us so that if we need help on our case she'll be able to."
Ron held up he beer. "Well, here's to being best friends with insufferable bookworms, and the advantages that come with it."
"Cheers." Harry tapped his bottle against Ron's and took a long swig.
… oO()Oo …
It was dark by the time Harry finally made it home, even though it was barely past twelve when he had left the Ministry. Like every time he had ever had a study session with Hermione, his head felt like it would burst with all the information crammed into it and he was exhausted, despite not actually doing anything other than read.
Kreacher, who was miraculously still alive after all these years, had dinner waiting for him. After he scarfed down as many sandwiches as he could, Harry stumbled upstairs and into the shower he had installed into the master bathroom.
Grimmauld Place, Harry had quickly discovered, was not a very good place to live. Sure, it was a lot cleaner after being used as a headquarters by the Order of the Phoenix during the war, but it had fallen back into disrepair soon after everyone had left.
Once he had finished his so-called eighth year of Hogwarts, he had made it his mission to renovate the dusty old house. And it wasn't just cleaning; no, he completely modernized it. He had repainted the walls, fixed all the creaky staircases, and replaced the windows with bigger ones that let in more light.
He had installed showers, a fridge, multiple televisions, even had the place set up for WiFi. There was only one room in the house that he never touched. He left Sirius' room be, as a sort of memorial for his godfather.
The master bedroom he had taken for himself, simply because the bathroom was attached and it had the most space.
His shower was quick, though it still felt heavenly on his sore back - hunching over books for hours on end had never agreed with him. He groaned when he exited the steamy bedroom and spied his trunk at the foot of his bed.
He had forgotten that he needed to pack for his trip. Well, he was a wizard for a reason, right? With only a muttered incantation, Harry had all of his clothes floating in the air in front of him. He idly looked through them, sending anything that looked warm over to his trunk and the rest back into his closet.
Another spell and the clothes were folding themselves and soaring into his trunk, and Harry was silently thanking Mrs. Weasley for teaching him domestic housework spells when he was younger.
His trunk was packed and ready to go in less than ten minutes, and Harry settled himself on his bed with The Witch or Wizard's Guide to Everything Dragon. Sighing, he leaned back and started mentally preparing himself for the next day.
