Harry Potter And The Auror's Guild.
Chapter 1
In with the old.
Sitting back in his chair, the luminescent dull hue of the fireplace flickering and crackling upon the half scribbled parchment scattered over his untidy desk, Harry narrowed his eyes in frustration and tried to look at what he just wrote; trying from a different perspective. He washed down the fire whiskey greedily as if he had been parched for days. The burn humming warmly inside his throat. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, tilting his head back and heard the satisfying click of the ache in his neck subsiding. Sitting doubled over as if working on a late potions essay, for 4 hours straight had that effect on you. Harry laughed thoughtfully to himself, even remembering homework, through a rose-tinted perspective, damn it he really needed to get out. It had been approximately 10 years, 27 days and 14 hours since he was last at Hogwarts. The last battle still ominously reminiscent as if only a day or so ago.
His hand reached to his forehead automatically as if awaiting the dull prickling of his scar, still nothing. he thought to himself. He knew it would never need hurt again but he was always on the ready, even got up and gazed out at the crescent moon from the cottage window, as dawn was fluttering upon the horizon. And decided it was time for a well-earned rest. Harry had worked, for what seemed like months, on extracts of his time and experiences at Hogwarts, he was still to this day, desirable number 1. He had been foolishly talked into it, by none other than the daily prophet. He had been emotionally blackmailed as they pointed out his experiences could be the key to stopping dark uprising and could help with putting the last rumours to bed. Oh and for the fact that Ginny said she wouldn't let him in the door if he said no. For Ginny Wealsey, now worked as a proclaimed journalist at the daily prophet, being together for just over 10 years helped make Harry a valuable contact.
Waking up and gingerly walking over to the desk and scattered parchment, as if second nature. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and let the light adjust. He looked down at the last entries and stood dumbstruck from a moment, gaping mouth ajar, it had been months and it dawned on him, that he was finally finished. Many lone nights at the old battered cottage, with the musky smell of damp that he had grown to adapt to and, find comfort in, had finally came to an , mildly awake he made sure his limbs were still limber and walked slowly over to the full length dusty cracked mirror beside his bed. The light now passing through the wide gap in the curtains gave the room an odd sort of halo of light, which was mostly drenched in the shadows or dust half the time. The dingy little bed only a couple of centimetres above the floor had an odd tilt to it, it didn't look it but the bed, was surprisingly comfortable. The patchwork quilt Mr's Weasley made for him reminded him of home, he felt a pang in his heart, thinking of home and how much time he had been away, it felt like years.
Looking from the dust-covered room which was empty apart from the bed, the small desk under the window with the rickety chair, and then finally the mirror. Unlike magical mirrors this one, wasn't shouting any criticism at him, positive or negative like the mirror at the Weasleys. He ruffled his hair, these days, he liked the unkept look. His appearance hadn't changed much over the years. Though he had lost that unhealthy stretched look to him, and had now fully grown into the 5 ft 10 lean frame of his. His scar, now looking quite faded, upon his milky skin, his green eyes, standing out vividly under his messy jet black hair and glasses he looked even more so like his father these days apart from the eyes, which were indeed his mothers eyes,his thin lips forming into a delicate smile. He however wasn't wearing wizard robes, his attire, was a brown suit, that resembled something in which Remus Lupin would have worn this, gave Harry another pang in his chest this time of loss.
Remembering those he had lost, his godfather, his friends and his parents and all those who fought against Voldermort, the memories relived through his writing, like an open wound. He looked like a lecturer these days, as Ron liked to constantly add, annoyingly. At 27 Harry, had not changed much from the boy who had left Hogwarts, which felt like not that long ago.
Hastily grabbing the keys, and rushing out of the cottage Harry slowed his pace down to stroll casually down the path, through the lush green grass, and hills that surrounded him in a million shades of green. The trees stretching up as if towards the heavens of the pure aqua, cloudless sky, of course the weather had to be perfect the day he was leaving. A faint whisper of a stream near by was trickling around him, engulfed by the sounds of birds tweeting, the snap of twigs as a fox quietly made its way back to its burrow. This place, was almost magical. Walking towards to the top of the hill, in the distance, he could see the small farm, the only human contact he had, which was collecting the keys and now dropping them off. Was with the old farmer, Timothy Rimmers. He was an old muggle man that owned the cottage and the small farm that he edged closer to, which had only a couple of chickens, 2 cows and a dog habituating it, he was moving at a faster pace now, taking a second to glance at his watch, it was 11am, he was 20 minutes early.
He heard the shuffle of feet and the cock of the pistol before he realised he had indeed walked up, almost sneaked up upon the old farmer who, with terrible eye sight but super human hearing, had turned to face him with his gun pointed directly at him."Who goes there", the old muggle man said in his thick regional accent. He was squinting at Harry, whom was a couple of feet away. "Come on, I know someone's there, speak up now." The old man said again, no hint of fear in his voice, it was harsh, booming around the vast space of the farm.
Voldermort had nothing on this guy,Harry chuckled to himself. He cleared his throat and edged closer. "Its me Harry Potter, Mr Rimmers, sorry to sneak up on you like that, I know I'm early but I thought I'd set out earlier than I planned."
It was indeed only 20 minutes earlier than the time they had agreed to meet, but Mr Rimmers wasn't expecting him a minute before or after 11, if he had a say about it. "Humph" , he grumbled turning and limping back towards the small farm, Harry followed with a bemused expression on his face, Mr Rimmers was the epiphany of a grumpy old man. With his blue denim overalls and Wellington boots,he was covered from head to toe in dried mud. His white wiry hair standing as if on end, which twisted and snaked down to his shoulders, his stern weathered face, and piercing blue eyes. He walked straight through the door to the tiny beaten down kitchen, he turned to look at Harry who had followed, slowly, with his mouth pulled tight in a thin line he spoke sternly "well i suppose if you have to leave, you didn't break anything? you enjoyed your stay hmm?" Mr Rimmers interrogated.
"Yes, no and yes thank you", Harry said kindly handing over the rusty keys of the cottage. "Well I'll take your word for it Mr Potter." He said studying Harry's face. "So you have finally finished your book on great british agriculture?" Mr Rimmers said absent mildly, looking out of the window as if not interested.
Harry smiled to himself, a very unlikely cover story but it was brilliant none the less, he had to thank Hermione for that one." Yes, final copy is finished, I'm thankful for you letting me stay here." Harry smiled kindly taking it as his cue to leave. "Yes, well safe journey, good luck." Mr Rimmers said hurriedly rushing him out of the house. Harry waved turning his back and walking back towards the cottage, that was beyond awkward Harry sighed running his fingers through his hair, he smiled to himself. Rushing with purpose now towards the cottage, to collect his papers, wand and rucksack, soon he would be home.