Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, he and every other character belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Harry Potter, in his six foot glory, was leaning against the kitchen counter in number 12 Grimauld Place watching his godfather try to make lunch without the help of their House-Elf. He found it far too funny to see the Pureblood man try and squeeze mustard onto a small piece of bread.

It was Thursday morning and his father had been called into the office. Apparently there had been an anonymous tip of a Bellatrix LeStrange sighting and Harry sighed, moody at the thought of being forcibly held back from this attack. It made his blood boil thinking that James Potter was able to go on the hunt for the crazy bitch while he was not. Sure James had been in the Aurror business longer than Harry, but they were both at a emotional disadvantage - thirteen years ago, Lily Potter was found dead at the hands of said witch.

"Oi, Potter, if you're not going to help me make lunch, at least do something productive and clean that godforsaken place you call a room." Sirius Black had his tongue poking from his lips, his face messed in concentration.

Harry smirked, "I think you need supervision here." He crossed his arms and watched his godfather scowl.

"Little bugger," the older man narrowed his eyes, "get lost already." Harry smirked holding his hands up in surrender before he slunk away toward the staircase and up to the second floor.

His room wasn't as bad as Sirius made it out to be, but it definitely could use a good wipe down. He had one of the many master bedrooms, just alike his father, Sirius and Remus. Sirius and himself had their rooms on the second floor while Remus and James were on the third. As Harry waved his wand, the piles of clothes on the floor flew toward his closet while the windowsill and dressers were dusted, he flopped onto his bed bored and a little bit depressed.

The truth was, Harry had been looking forward to his revenge on Bellatrix LeStrange for almost six years now. He'd joined his father in the Aurror department only a year ago, but had been one of the few selected members of the Junior Aurror team since he was fourteen. But really, the whole reason he was there now was to one day catch Bellatrix and make her suffer the way he did everyday.

When his mother was murdered at Flourish and Blotts thirteen years ago, a young Harry was obliviously making her an enormous dinner back at home with his dad. After that day, Harry could clearly tell you that his father lost a lot. James Potter buried himself in work or when he was at home with Harry, they only stayed indoors. Godric's Hollow was their home, and stayed their home until the one day, coincidentally the only day, Sirius took him to the local playground where he fell from the high bars and broke his arm. That was the last day James ever let young Harry leave his sight and the last day they ever went back to Godric's Hollow.

Relieving himself of the brief memories, Harry shook his head angrily. His father had always been protective of him when he was little, but after Sirius had taken him out of the protective enchantments around the house, James Potter stepped up his watchful duty. Surely Harry understood the reason why his old man didn't want anything to happen to him, but a kid could only take so much coddling. Which was another reason of his rebellion. The Aurror team seemed like the perfect excuse to engage in a fight, let out his anger, get his hands dirty, and he supposed, to meet other kids.

Tucking his hands behind his head, Harry thought of all the things he'd missed when he was younger. Besides the normal outing to the park, he missed out on having a mother to kiss him goodnight, her inspiring words on how to woo the girl next door; god he even missed out on having a mother to scold him when he ran through the house. The incessant feeling of his heart being tugged on made Harry shake his head, the frown on his face turning to a smirk. Honestly though, who really cared if he couldn't run through the house? Not many kids could say they ate ice cream for breakfast! Some of the best things he could gain was having a house filled with his dad's best mates who let him do whatever he pleased.

Sure there were small things that he'd missed but how could he miss them if he didn't have them at all? Harry sighed, inspecting the ceiling with more interest. His eyes strayed from the topless witch poster Sirius had give him on his seventeenth birthday, a year ago. While all that was spectacular, truly what he felt most envious of anyone else his age in England was not being able to go to Hogwarts.

When he'd turned eleven and first gotten his letter, James had pried it from his hands, saying his Uncle Moony would teach him instead and that 'Hogwarts was a whole lot of wasted hours doing assignments'. That night was the fourth time Harry'd done accidental magic on his father, turning his black hair into a pink afro. Sirius and Remus wouldn't let him live it down to this day. Yet still, Harry was stuck at his new home, Grimmauld Place, learning about Advanced Charms, Potions, Transfiguration by the age of fifteen while already in the Junior Aurrors.

Huffing, Harry sat up and blocked all miserable thoughts of his misfortunes as he snatched his wand from his mattress and walked upstairs to the fourth floor to the library and the Floo Network. If he wasn't allowed to track down the hag, he was going to read up on Ancient Ruins. Harry rolled his eyes. He didn't mind the subject unlike many before him (he was actually rather good at it), but Moony gave him a fifteen inch essay on Egyptian Hieroglyphs due next week. He was sure that his father and his friends were laughing at him behind his back, mocking how James had once said Hogwarts was too much work, while in reality Moony had given him, surely, twice as much as any Professor would.

As he opened the overly large doors to the ancient library and made his way to the A section, Harry mindlessly found a book of Egyptians while his eyes focused on the fireplace, which was still glowing green. Would it really be so bad for him to just go and ... help? His father would probably appreciate it in the end - maybe he might be a little pissed off, but he would be fine after he helped catch her. With the idea that it would be a win-win situation, Harry put his book down and grabbed Floo Powder before he stood in the flames and left for the Ministry.

When his feet hit the ground, and the swirling green flames left, Harry strode deliberately to the meeting room. He closed the door behind him and donned on the proper robes in record time before he browsed the array of Portkeys that lined the room. They had parchment under them, listed for where and what the Aurrors on duty were going after. Harry stopped at a toothbrush and read the sign that said:

LeStrange Sighting
Head Aurror: J. Potter
Assistant: A. Longbottom
Junior: N. Tonks

Harry snorted at the sight of Dora's name on the list to help his father. Yes, he would definitely need his help. If Alice Longbottom was on the case with his father, it meant Frank was too, and that meant so was Marleen. They were all excellent Aurrors, everyone knew that, and technically so was Dora, but she was still a Grade A target for disaster.

Taking his wand out of his pocket, Harry took a deep breath and smiled before he put a hand on the toothbrush. He disappeared without a sound, a strong tug behind his navel as the only successful sign it had worked. Landing on his back, Harry found himself at what looked to be a Manor. Standing and not bothering to wipe the dirt from his clothes, he edged forward, crouched with his wand at the ready. It was about time Bellatrix met her match.