So this is actually started as an off shoot of the other HP fic I am working on. However, in the interest of chronological... integrity (?) or just keeping everything straight in my own head, I've tabled that one to rework, and started this! It all starts in 2009, shortly after Harry was named head of the Auror Office. Old friends and new enemies abound. Enjoy!

Chapter One: Mornings are a Mother

Once, just once, Harry wished he could ignore the glow. But he knew that if he didn't pick up the coin soon, it would grow blinding, and then it would whistle, waking up his wife in the process. Which in turn would wake the children, and then the whole house would be awake at this ungodly hour. It wasn't worth the surliness of his wife, or the seemingly endless energy of their offpring.

Grumbling to himself, Harry groped for piece of metal, its light dimming back to a candle's worth the moment his fingers closed about it. Sitting up, he fumbled for him glasses, nearly losing an eye in the process. Beside him, he felt a warm body stir.

Ginny's brown eyes glinted in the watery light, her hair mussed and her body warm from sleep. Harry felt that same stab of warmth he always felt whenever he looked at his wife. Even half asleep, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

The coin, seemingly aware of the eventual destination of such thoughts, flared irritably. Feeling distinctly peeved, Harry pocketed the thing as he got out of bed.

Ginny was sitting up now, the covers really not doing anything to hide her body from view. Harry tore his gaze away and made a show of pulling his clothes out of the burea as quickly and quietly as possible. As soon as he was dressed, he went back to the bedside.

"Sorry love, getting called in to the office. Go back to sleep. I'll send an owl as soon as I know what's going on," he murmured, tucking an errant flame colored strand behind her ear.

Ginny nodded, her eyes sharp despite the fact that it was three in the morning. "I've got that game down in Hampfordshire this afternoon, but I should be back tonight. And remember, we're having Ron and Hermione over at seven," she whispered back, giving his hand a squeeze.

Harry rubbed his temples. "Damn, forgot about that. Hopefully Kreature won't mind helping out with dinner again. I swear, he does more as a retired house elf than he did before."

Ginny grinned, her eyes alight in the gloom. "Stop your worrying. Kreature will be head over heels to do something other than monitor that nephew of his. Ask him yourself on your way out if you don't believe me. Now go, before it wakes the children." Ginny stretched up, kissing him softly. Harry felt his mind blank at the feel of her. In his pocket, the coin let out a low hissing sound.

Cursing under his breath, Harry made for the door.

Ginny was right, as always. Kreature was beside himself with glee, pleased to be in charge of the dinner preparations. The elf bustled about the gleaming kitchen, placing a steaming mug of coffee in front of Harry.

"Of course Master Harry, Kreature is happy to oversee this evening's courses. And his nephew, Lot, will be most useful. He can do the cleaning, while Kreature handles the more delicate tasks," the elf said in his throaty voice. Harry hid his grin in the coffee mug. Kreature was positively ancient, and these days he resembled an Egyptian mummy more than a member of the living. However, he had flatly refused when Harry had offered to free him, and it had taken the better part of a decade to convince him to accept his "retirement." Of course, Kreature had promptly brought in his hereto unkown nephew Lot to train in the service to the family. Hermione had tried to talk them both out of it, but Harry knew better. Kreature had taken his retirement as permission to do things about the house as he saw fit, and was highly unlikely to relinquish the status.

"Master Harry, you is not listening," Harry heard a reproachful voice croak near his kneecap. Kreature was staring at him with baleful eyes.

"Er, sorry Kreature, was just thinking of the kids," Harry said quickly, feeling guilty.

Kreature nodded solemnly. "Kreature will be sure they is helpful in assisting for tonight. Now, Kreature is wondering if he should make pudding or the treacle tart, Master Harry?" Harry opened his mouth when Kreature began puttering away, saying, "Of course you is wanting the treacle, Kreature knows this."

Harry smiled again as the elf brought back the pot of coffee, topping off the mug. He did hate being called in this early, but at least he had his coffee first.

When Harry stepped out of the grate and into the main hall of the Ministry of Magic, he was surprised at the amount of people. While by no means as crowded as it would be in a few hours, there were many more people about than usual. Most he recognized as those in his office. Not something that boded well for the day.

He had just stepped onto his floor when a figure almost collided with him. They had been pacing outside the lift, obviously waiting. With a start, they fell back, papers floating down around them.

"Sorry boss!" a voice said weakly from the ground. Bouncing upright, the woman pulled out her wand and began summoning papers back to their folder, her cheeks bright red. Harry resisted the urge to sigh. Maggie Tremlett was the best talent to come out of the Auror training pool in years, but she did suffer from bouts of over enthusiasm. This had all the signs of one of those moments.

"Hi boss. Sorry to call you in so late, but we've got a dead body and a material witness, and he says he knew you and he wouldn't leave until he spoke to you and he really was starting to cause a fuss so I activated the coin and called Mr. Weasley in too, the man says he knows the both of you, actually he said that-"

"Tremlett." Harry said repressively, beginning to wish he had asked Kreature for some coffee to go. He wasn't up for this at three thirty in the morning.

"Right boss. Sorry boss. Anyhow, I've set him by your desk," she said briskly, passing him the folder. She began following Harry as he weaved his way in and around the cubicles that made up the Auror Office, reading the file intently.

"Body found, signs of torture, dark magic… have we sent someone up from Retrograde up yet? What's his name, Grundry?" he asked, ducking through a door unconsciously. Maggie checked her own notes.

"Grundry's out at the moment, seems his gout is acting up. But he sent his assistant up. Quinn. Supposed to be bloody brilliant, pardoning the language, boss," Maggie said, chewing on the end of her quill. "Quinn should have all the evidence we need by seven, according to Grundry."

"Good," Harry said, his eyes scanning the report. He flipped a page and started, the name catching his eye and freezing it on the spot.

A vaguely familiar smell, one of old tobacco and dirty socks, washed over him. Next to his desk, an old, wrinkly man stood up, his mournful face contorted by grief.

"Well, if it innit 'arry Potter. Fanks for showing up," Mundugus Fletcher said, his voice cracking as his watery eyes began to fill.

I'm still trying to get a feel for how Dung sounds in my head. Hopefully it turns out well. Thanks!