Harry Potter and the Wizard for Hire
Prologue: The Boy Under the Stairs
Night had fallen over the English town of Little Whinging, but nowhere was it darker than on Privet Drive. The street lights all functioned as they normally did and more ambient light drifted out from the homes that lined the streets, bouncing off the puddles of rainwater that sat on the street. Nevertheless, a gloom hung over the little lane, a feeling ominous doom like that of the storm that had just passed by. And nowhere was this sense of doom more concentrated then around the house marked with the number four.
A low rumble suddenly broke the silence that had fallen over the street seconds before a motorcycle came rumbling into view. Astride the motorcycle was a massive man, both in girth and in height, standing over seven feet tall and weighing at least three hundred pounds. He was dressed in a thick brown coat over a simple black t-shirt and blue jeans, heavy worker's boots covering his feet. A thick, brown beard covered the lower half of the man's face and long hair hung down to his shoulders, kept out of his face by the riding helmet he wore.
As the man pulled up out front of number four Privet Drive, a woman emerged from the house across the street and began making her way towards the street. She was an older woman, her grey hair put up in curlers while she had a pink bathrobe wrapped around her thin frame and tartan slippers on her feet.
"Mrs. Figg?" the large man questioned in a deep, heavily accented voice.
"Yes," the woman replied with a shaky voice and it was only then that the man noticed that she was trembling, "Mr. Hagrid, was it?"
"Just Hagrid is fine, ma'am," the man, Hagrid, replied as he took off his helmet and set it on the bike, "Dumbledore sent me over just as soon as you got word to him."
"I fear you may be too late though," Mrs. Figg explained, her eyes focused on the house across the street.
"Tell me what you saw," Hagrid insisted.
"Not much," Mrs. Figg answered with a shake of her head, "Someone….maybe something went inside at the height of the storm and….I swear I heard screams."
Hagrid felt his pulse pounding in his ears as he turned his towards the house across the street.
"Stay here," Hagrid informed her before he squared his shoulders and began making his way across the street.
Reaching the door, Hagrid glanced around to see if anyone was watching him before he reached down and tried the door, finding it locked. Sighing, Hagrid flexed his hands before gripping the knob and giving it a sharp twist. There was a sharp click as the lock broke, allowing Hagrid to push the door open easily.
What Hagrid saw before him was nothing short of horrifying.
It was clear to Hagrid that the house had once been a picturesque one, with everything as neat and orderly, with fine looking furniture and brightly colored wallpaper. Now though, the furniture lay broken and overturned upon the ground and the paint upon the walls was stained with what looked like drying blood to Hagrid, illuminated by an toppled lamp that cast long shadows around the room.
It was the dead man laying on the floor that really caught Hagrid's attention though.
He had been a large man in life, more in girth than in height though he had been a tall man as well. His round face was topped by a mop of salt and pepper hair and a large bushy mustache grew over his lip. The most noticeable thing about him though was the gaping hole in his chest, the blood and gore from the wound staining his clothes and the surrounding carpet.
Hagrid covered his mouth with one hand in shock and immediately had to fight the urge to empty the contents of his stomach right there on the doorstep. Instead, Hagrid managed to steel himself before taking a step into the house.
As he crossed over the threshold of the door, Hagrid felt a slight tugging on his body, almost as if an invisible force was pulling against him. Gritting his teeth, Hagrid finished stepping through the doorway and entered the house, taking a moment to recuperate afterwards.
After taking a moment to collect himself, Hagrid looked around, almost emptying the contents of his stomach as his gaze passed over the corpse on the floor again. Turning from the corpse, Hagrid quickly stepped into a small hall that connected one part of the home to the other, occupied by a staircase leading up to the second floor.
That, and another corpse.
The body of a woman lay crumpled on the floor across the hallway, the walls around her stained with blood. The woman was lain sideways across the narrow hallway, her body scrunched up between the walls. She was the opposite of the man, her boney limbs bent at unnatural angles while her hair was matted with dried blood. What drew Hagrid's eye though was the gaping wound in the woman's chest, almost identical to the one the man sported. Hagrid quickly looked away from the corpse, having already seen far too much.
It was as he was looking away that Hagrid heard a noise. It was a faint one, almost similar to a rodent scrambling behind a wall. Glancing back at the woman's corpse, Hagrid noticed for the first time that the section of wall that the woman was laying against was actually a door, likely leading to a cupboard built under the stairs.
Taking a deep breath in an effort to steel his nerves, Hagrid made his way down the hall towards the woman's corpse. As he stood over the woman's body, Hagrid gingerly reached out with his foot and gently pushed the corpse to the side, his face turning ashen as he came into contact with the corpse. After a moment, Hagrid managed to push the corpse clear of the door and heard another rustling sound come from within the cupboard.
Hesitantly, Hagrid reached out with one of his massive hands and gently grabbed the handle. Taking a moment to steady himself, Hagrid took a deep breath, set his brow and yanked the door open.
Immediately, Hagrid was greeted by a shrill scream. Looking in the cupboard, Hagrid found boys huddled inside. The one who was screaming was the larger of the two, both in height and girth. He resembled the dead man in the parlor, sharing the same limp brown hair and round red face. The other boy was short and scrawny in comparison, his clothes hanging off of him like he was a coat rack. He wore a pair of glasses over his green eyes, the bridge of which was held together by tape. His black hair was extremely unruly and hung low enough to slightly obscure the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead.
"G-Get back!" the smaller boy shouted and it was only then that Hagrid noticed the boy was brandishing a kitchen knife at him, "Get back, I'm w-warning you!"
"Easy, Harry, easy!" Hagrid said, holding his hands up to the boy to try and show that he meant no harm, "I'm not going to hurt you!"
"H-How do you know my name?" the boy, Harry, demanded as the knife wavered in his hand, "Who are you?"
"My name is Rubeus Hagrid," the large man replied, "And I'm here to help you."
Later,
The afternoon sun hung low over the city of Chicago, casting everything in a deep, orange glow. Included among this was an ordinary looking office building, the setting sun reflecting off the windows where the shadows cast by the surrounding buildings did not shade them.
Outside the building, a man stood before the entrance, apparently unnoticed by the bustling midtown crowds. He was an elderly man, tall and thin, with long silver hair that hung past his shoulders and a beard that hung down to the center of his chest. His nose was long and crooked, upon which a pair of half-moon spectacles sat in front of his brilliant blue eyes. He wore a burgundy suit along with a dark purple scarf patterned with yellow flowers.
Walking into the building, the man made his way up to the fifth floor, and made his way past the quiet buzz of the consulting firm that took up most of the floor before coming to a stop in front of a door. Glancing up at the door, the man saw with a frosted glass window, upon which was written "Harry Dresden-Wizard." Reaching out, the man knocked upon the door.
"It's open," a deep voice drawled from the other side, prompting the man to open the door and step inside.
The room beyond was a single, small office. Next to the door sat a small table on which a few pamphlets with titles like "Magic for Dummies" and "I'm a Wizard-Ask Me How" strewn across it. On the other side of the door was a coatrack, from which hung a dark brown trenchcoat. Across from the door was a simple desk upon which sat a few pieces of mail and a couple of paperback novels. In one corner of the room sat a file cabinet while another held a small table upon which sat a coffeemaker. A ceiling fan spun lazily overhead.
Behind the desk sat a tall, slim man who looked to be somewhere in his late twenties. His hair was short and almost black, going along well with his dark eyes. He was dressed in a simple black t-shirt and blue jeans, while the brown boots he was wearing were on display due to the he was leaning back in his chair, reading a book.
"So," the man sighed as he closed his book and turned his attention towards the door, "What can I-"
The man cut himself off as his gaze fell on the other man standing at the door, his dark eyes going wide in surprise.
"Hello, Harry," the man greeted with a smile, his eyes twinkling.
"Dumbledore?" the man, Harry, questioned in confusion, his brow furrowing as he sat up in his chair.
"You seem surprised," Dumbledore commented with a small smile.
"Well, yeah," Harry replied, "Usually when I get a visit from the White Council, it's a Warden, not a member of the Senior Council."
"Well, then this is turning out to be a very interesting day for you," Dumbledore commented, his eyes twinkling.
"Seems so," Harry agreed with a nod, "What can I help you with? Need something found?"
"No," Dumbledore replied with a shake of his head, "I do not require your services as a private investigator."
"Then, what do you need me for?" Harry questioned.
"To talk of something important," Dumbledore answered before he gestured to the chair sitting on the opposite side of the desk, "May I have a seat?"
"Sure," Harry agreed as he nodded towards the chair before retaking his seat and watching as Dumbledore sat down.
"So, I think you've done enough of the ominous appearance schtick," Harry commented, "I know it comes part and parcel with the whole wizard thing, but maybe we should get down to the brass tacks."
"You always were one for the direct approach, weren't you?" Dumbledore said with a small grin, "Tell me, do you remember Harry Potter?"
There was a pause in the conversation as Harry glanced away from Dumbledore with a far away look in his eye.
"I remember the baby if that's what you're asking," Harry answered after the moment had passed, "I can't say I know the kid. He has to be, what, ten now?"
"Soon to be eleven," Dumbledore confirmed with a nod, "After everything that happened, he was brought to live with family in England."
"This is all very interesting," Harry said as he turned his attention back towards Dumbledore, "But what does any of this have to do with me?"
"His family is dead," Dumbledore answered plainly.
A moment of stunned silence passed between the two.
"What?" Harry finally hissed.
"Murdered," Dumbledore replied as easily as if he was describing the weather, "Just last night."
"How?" Harry inquired, sitting completely upright in his chair.
"With magic," Dumbledore stated, and now Harry noticed the old man growing a bit pale as he continued, "Some sort of curse that….tore the hearts from their chests."
"Hell's bells," Harry whispered in horror, "How could someone do something like that? Break the First Law of Magic like that?"
"I would think you, of all people, Harry, would know how monstrous this world can be," Dumbledore stated.
"I guess," Harry replied as he subconsciously rubbed the lower part of his right arm, "You still haven't told me what this has to do with me."
"Like I said," Dumbledore explained, "I require your assistance."
"Assistance with what?" Harry pressed.
"Protecting the boy," Dumbledore stated simply.
"You want me….to protect him?" Harry questioned in confusion, "Isn't this the kind of thing we have the Wardens for?"
"Let me answer your question by asking you a question," Dumbledore replied, "Where has Harry Potter been living this past decade?"
"Why would I know that?" Harry inquired as his brow furrowed.
"But do you know that?" Dumbledore repeated.
"Well, no," Harry answered.
"And as far as anyone else on the Senior Council knew before last night, neither did anyone else except for a few select individuals," Dumbledore elaborated.
"Are you….are you trying to tell me there's some sort of mole in the White Council?" Harry questioned, clearly shocked.
"I don't know," Dumbledore answered, "Nothing like this has ever happened before, but the fact of the matter is that Harry Potter's location had not been common knowledge. He had spent his whole life under the observation of the White Council. He already had Warden protection, and someone still walked into his home and murdered his aunt and uncle."
"And what, you think I'll do any better?" Harry questioned.
"I think you will be unexpected," Dumbledore explained, "No one would think to look for Harry Potter with a man with the Sword of Damocles hanging over his head."
"Something I'm sure the Merlin and the other members of the Senior Council were thrilled by this idea," Harry observed.
"They were somewhat mollified by the fact that being with you would mean Harry would also be under observation by one of the most respected and decorated Wardens around," Dumbledore explained.
"Morgan," Harry all but growled, "I'm even more surprised that he would let you put the Boy Who Lived under the protection of a Dark wizard such as myself."
"He had his objections," Dumbledore admitted, "But, ultimately, Donald is a man of duty, and if the Senior Council gives him a command, he will follow it."
"Then, I guess I just have one more question to ask," Harry stated as he looked Dumbledore in the eye, "Why do you think I'll do this?"
"Why?" Dumbledore asked, seeming like he was genuinely surprised by the question.
"I'm a private investigator, not a bodyguard," Harry explained coldly, "I have more important things to do than babysit some kid. So yeah, what makes you think I'll do this?"
"Because you're a good man, Harry Dresden," Dumbledore stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "In fact, you have saved this boy's life once before. Some would say that makes you responsible for him."
Harry was quiet for a moment, drumming his fingers on the wood of his desk as he thought.
"And others would say that he owes me a blood debt, like a Wookie," Harry countered sardonically, "Now, all I need is a starship and I can become a smuggler with a heart of gold."
"The two of you will have to work out the details of the arrangement," Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling.
"I still haven't agreed to this," Harry pointed out.
"Well, I could offer to pay you," Dumbledore stated with a shrug.
"I do have bills to pay," Harry observed, "I'm not trying to be cold here but I am running a business here."
"Of course," Dumbledore relented with a nod, "That's why I appealed to your humanity but planned on paying you anyway."
"How considerate of you," Harry stated sarcastically.
"I try," Dumbledore stated with a smirk.
There was a pause as Harry stared quietly at Dumbledore for a moment.
"You're serious about this, huh?" Harry inquired.
"Of course I am," Dumbledore answered seriously, "A young boy's life is at stake."
Harry was quiet for another moment before he sighed dramatically.
"Alright, alright," he relented, "I'll watch the kid."
"I'm very happy to hear you say that, Harry," Dumbledore replied with a smile.
"But only for a few days, okay?" Harry added quickly, "Just until the Warden's catch the guy who did this. After that, he's somebody else's problem."
"Of course," Dumbledore agreed as he stood from his chair.
"The Wardens are looking for this guy, right?" Harry questioned.
"An attempt was made on the Boy Who Lived's life by breaking the First Law of Magic," Dumbledore replied, "All of them are looking for the person responsible. Well, all except one that is."
"Morgan," Harry sighed, "I'm guessing I should expect a visit from him?"
"It would seem likely," Dumbledore stated as he made his way towards the door, "I would also expect a message from the White Council with the details of your payment."
"Hold up," Harry said as Dumbledore reached the door, "You haven't told me where the kid is yet."
"You will pick up the boys on a spot of Accorded neutral ground tomorrow at noon," Dumbledore explained as he opened the door, "I believe you are familiar with Mcanally's?"
"Yeah, I know Mac's," Harry answered before a thought struck him, "Wait, what do you mean 'boys?'"
"Oh, did I forget to mention?" Dumbledore questioned as he stood in the doorway, "Harry's cousin, Dudley Dursley, was also a survivor of the attack."
"Okay?" Harry replied, clearly not understanding, "What does he have to do with anything?"
"He is Harry's cousin," Dumbledore repeated, "Whoever is behind this has already murdered the boy's parents, we can't leave him in harm's way, especially when the killer could try and get to Harry through him."
"Okay," Harry sighed as he ran his hands over his face, "Sure, fine."
"I knew I could count on you, Harry," Dumbledore stated, his eyes twinkling, "It's been a pleasure seeing you again."
With that, Dumbledore turned and left, closing the door behind him.
"Yeah," Harry grumbled, "It's been fan-freaking-tastic."
A/N: Hey, everybody! Yep, it's a new story, because that's just what I needed, right? But, I read through all of the Dresden Files books recently, and I was struck by inspiration. I hope you guys like this one! As always, feedback and critiques are always welcome, so please review! Later!