AN: A new project. It will feature some familiar characters and a few new ones. I hope you enjoy it.

A New Beginning

The war was over or at least it should have been. Everything had been planned and orchestrated by Albus Dumbledore so Voldemort would murder Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and finally be made mortal once with the miraculous survival of Harry Potter, the spectacular backfire of the Elder wand, and the ultimate defeat of the greatest Dark Lord the wizarding world had ever known, somehow the war continued. Now, just over twenty-five years after the Battle of Hogwarts, the wizarding world was still locked in a struggle to free itself from the stain Voldemort left behind.

So, like any other day since his last fateful encounter with Tom Marvolo Riddle, Harry James Potter sat behind a battered old wood desk pouring over reports. Being the Head of the Auror Department was not his first choice for a career move when he and many of his friends and classmates joined the reformed Ministry of Magic, under the guidance of Kingsley Shacklebolt. As life would have it, he was again bound to a destiny and obligation, not of his own making. He liked being an Auror, getting out into the field and truly making a difference. This job was more paperwork and parties than real Auror work.

Exhausted, he sighed and ran a hand through his receding still jet-black hair. He pinched the bridge of his nose in hopes of averting the growing headache. Auror Perkins, a holdover from the previous administration, loved to embellish his reports with witty and usually useless remarks about Ministry bureaucracy. His current report was supposed to be a detailed outline of his discoveries concerning the disappearance of Susan Bones, but most of the dozens of feet of parchment were on his thoughts on the way assignments were handed out.

Harry had half a mind to chuck the whole thing into the fire, but his concern for Susan ran deep enough that he stuck it out. She was, after all, the tenth of his old schoolmates to vanish within the past year. The average person would not find this fact too extraordinary. He had gone to the largest and most prestigious British school for witchcraft and wizardry. Disappearances, despite the Ministry's best efforts, were still a regular occurrence even without Voldemort around. Sill, the pattern bothered him.

A knock on the door saved him from having to open another scroll.

"Come in, James," he called out, hiding his tiredness.

His oldest son, James Sirius Potter, timidly cracked open the door and peered around it into the office. The boy was a near spitting imagine of him. They shared the untidy black hair and thin nose. James's ears were larger than his, and his brown eyes were clearly inherited from the Weasleys. He had grown to be an inch or two taller than Harry, and he had the physique of a seasoned Quidditch player. There was nothing scrawny about him.

"Sorry to bother you, father…," he started.

Harry had to cut off his chuckle. His energetic, life-of-the-party son had a very rude awakening during his first week on the job. His trainer, Auror Teddy Lupin, wiped the floor with him in front of the whole office. While as his father Harry was appalled at his son's treatment, he knew, as his boss, he needed to allow James to earn his own respect among his colleagues. Besides, Teddy would never seriously hurt James no matter how annoyed he got with him. The experience, however, had drastically altered James's personality at work for the time being. Harry doubted his oldest son would be timid and shy; he took after his namesake too much for it to be the case.

"James, please, stop with the act when no one else is around."

James gave him a crooked and cocky smile. "Sorry, Dad."

Harry just gave him a knowing look.

James entered the room and closed the door behind him. He glanced around for another chair, but the office did not have one.

"Kingsley too cheap to buy his right-hand man a few office chairs, Dad?"

Harry frowned disapprovingly at the lack of respect in his son's voice.

"The Minister has very little to do with how I decorated my office. I find when people are unable to sit they get to their point a whole lot faster."

James smirked. "So at least we know Albus really is your son."

Harry's frown deepened. "What does that mean?"

"That is just a very Slytherin thing to do, is all."

"Right," responded Harry snippily. He had very little patience with House rivalry. No one should be judged purely by what House they had been sorted into.

James noticed the tone in his father's voice and wisely chose to change the topic. "Auror Lupin told me to report to you after I finished my patrol of Diagon Alley."

Harry glanced down at the pile of unread reports then at a clock with far too many hands on it. It was much later than he had been expecting. If he was going to get answers today, he would have to leave soon.

"How is Diagon?"

James shrugged, conjuring a comfortable chair. "There's a reason they allow newbies to patrol it by themselves."

"Still, the latest intel on the Death Eaters says they're becoming bolder," muttered Harry more to himself than his son, "I should tell Parker to assign…"

"Dad, don't!"

Harry looked up at his horrified son.

"They'll all think you change the rounds to protect me." James continued more calmly.

"Better that than have you run into Nott or one of the Lestrange twins by yourself. No one should be on patrol by him or herself. Things are heating up again; it feels like the last time. The increase disappearances…the Dark Mark over that cottage…and those werewolves attacks in Surrey. We've been fooling ourselves into believing that whoever the Death Eaters are now following would be satisfied with the status quo. Voldemort may be dead, but there were too many who felt he had some of the right ideas. And despite all our efforts we still made mistakes."

Harry shook his head to rid himself of the horrible memories, the arguments with Kingsley about his pardoning certain prestigious wizarding families. Hell, he had personally agreed with some of the second chances handed out during the rebuilding era of the Ministry, but he had been foolish to believe that prejudices died easily. They allowed necessity and prudence dictate their actions. The old houses still wielded great power and influence.

He caught James's worried expression and forced himself to smile.

"But those are issues for a different day. I called you here because I need a favor."

"Anything," said James eagerly, pleased his father trusted him with something clearly of great importance.

"You should hear my request first." Harry paused but continued when James remained resolutely silent. "There is a case I have been working on for six months, and I believe I may have found an important lead. Unfortunately, to investigate said lead requires a timely journey, which I simply cannot afford. As the Minister's right-hand man, my absence will be too conspicuous, and the public does not need another thing to worry about."

James leaned over the desk, clearly eager. His eyes lit with anticipation.

Harry bit his lip. This was a dangerous mission and had he any other option he would take it. He disliked endangering others least of all his own son but the case was not Ministry-approved so sending a fully trained Auror was out of the question. There was no one in the Ministry he trusted enough to tell about his unauthorized investigations even Kingsley. He might have asked Hermione to research it, but she was needed here, buying them time with the Wizengamot. So, he was left with no other choice.

"What do you know about the goings on in the States?"

Whatever James had been expecting, it had not been this. He leaned back in his chair and actually laughed heartily.

"Why?" He chuckled. "What does it have to do with anything we're involved in?"

Harry imagined this was how Dumbledore must have felt like at times.

"Well?" He pressed patiently.

James huffed, crossing his arms. "Fine, but it's all ancient history. The wizarding community over there was wiped out or imprisoned about five years ago. The person responsible then went on to take over the muggle government and shut down all communications to the outside world. It is believed the witches and wizards that survived the first purge backed the current government and are considered traitors by the International Confederation of Wizards."

Harry nodded impressed by the knowledge. The topic of the United States was not widely publicized or discussed. He guessed at the source of the knowledge and was once again thankful for Minerva agreeing to come out of retirement. "That is all out of a school textbook. What have you learned while you've been on patrol?"

"Nothing, not really. Most people don't even talk about it. The few that do call them traitors or worse. Why are we talking about them, the cowardly bastards?"

Harry's lips thinned and his expression hardened. "Now, I know I did not raise my children to buy so quickly into rumors. I certainly know I've taught you to not judge others without knowing their whole story. The American wizarding community was left with very little option. Everyone was too scared to aid them in their battle, so to survive and fight another day some of them made a deal with the devil. Many formed a resistance. They are up against a force at least equal to Voldemort at the height of his power."

"What!"

Harry silenced his son with a glare. "This is information the ICW would prefer to keep out of the public's hands; they do not want to drag the whole world into a war. I have dug through the records and found out, perhaps, we have a far greater cancer in our midst than concern over blood status. I digress, the politics and fears of the ICW do not concern you beyond the fact this mission is completely off the books. This Department and the Ministry as a whole will not be able to offer you any aid or rescue. You'll be completely on your own."

James ran a hand through his untidy black hair, mimicking his father's actions. "What are you saying?"

Instead of answering, Harry Potter sunk deeper into his chair. He pressed his fingers together and studied his son over the resulting temple. "What do you remember of your fifth year at Hogwarts?" He asked softly.

"Fifth year?" James frowned, thinking back. "It was like all the rest, I guess, except for OWLs. I mean Albus and I fought more than we had since he started Hogwarts, but it was me being a prat as usual. I knew he liked that exchange student from France, but I went after her anyways, not my finest moment."

Harry chuckled. "I'd say not."

"In my defense, he had Scorpius. Then there was that whole thing with Lily being a parselmouth. Everyone expected it from Albus, but Lily's practically got red and gold flowing through her veins. It blew over quick enough, though."

Harry sighed. He had hoped none of his unusual abilities would be passed onto his kids, but both Albus and Lily were parselmouths.

"And there was that exchange student from somewhere, I can't remember." James closed his eyes. Every time he tried to remember more about the boy the memories became slippery. "He was a weird kid, never seemed to fit. I still swear that he moved the suit of armor using wandless magic."

Harry held up his hand. "You remember Christopher?"

James squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his temples, straining to get clearer picture. "It's strange. I know he was there, but I couldn't tell you what he looked like. Or what House he was in, or anything of importance, just that bit about the suit of armor."

Harry nodded along. "Perfectly understandable. You were both in an unauthorized duel. Heightened emotions would have weakened the effectiveness of the memory charm."

James stared at his father. "Memory charm!"

Harry drummed his fingers on his desk. "It was believed best by the Ministry. Any knowledge of Christopher needed to be carefully guarded. Many, in fact, did not want him to attend Hogwarts, but your aunt Hermione and I convinced Kingsley of its necessity."

"Why?" asked James, torn between interest and feelings of violation over the memory charm.

"Chris came over to England to research some history concerning certain artifacts of magic originating from this part of the world," Harry spoke slowly, choosing his words wisely. "At the time, he was only fifteen, the same age as you. Although, when he attended Hogwarts, we felt he'd feel more comfortable around Albus and his friends."

"You held him back?"' asked James, smirking.

Harry smiled slightly. "He was given a chose in the matter."

James followed his father with his eyes as the older wizard stood up and crossed to the fireplace. He picked up a small box from the mantlepiece. Silently Harry strode back to his desk and handed the box over to his son. The wooden box had intricate carvings covering its entire surface.

"Can you make out the runes in the center?" asked Harry, inciting the carving on the lid.

James peered at the center. He could barely discern the outline of five runes surrounded by the triquetra, which made up the majority of the carvings on the top of the box. Not wanting to disappoint, he carefully traced the runes with his finger trying to trigger some buried memory from Ancient Runes.

Harry took a seat once again and leaned over his desk. "They are of a dialect you would not have been taught at Hogwarts. I had your aunt Hermione research their origins when the box came into my possession."

"Did she translate them?" Ancient Runes had never been his favorite subject, but he had stuck with it through NEWT levels. He understood enough to know the significance of five runes carved exactly equidistant apart.

Harry nodded and placed a hand over the box, pulling it to the center of the desk. "They are of Amratian origin. Each represents the protective nature of the five great elements of magic."

James frowned. "Amratian?"

"The culture which eventually became Ancient Egyptian," explained Harry.

"So they're hieroglyphs then, not runes."

Harry shrugged. "Perhaps, the niceties of terminology aside are not important. This box was given to me by Chris's mother shortly before she died."

The information only further confused James.

"Perhaps you could tell me what the triquetra represents?"

Furrowing his brow, James clicked his tongue. "It's used to symbolize an object or being that has a triple nature. Most often it is used by Wiccans to symbolized the triple goddess, but that's all muggle superstition. It is a symbol of protection."

"Two great magical families have used the triquetra as their family seal. One family were the le Fays."

James gasped. "As in Morgana le Fay from the Arthurian legends. Come on, Dad! That's just poppycock and bedtime stories."

Harry chuckled at the irony. An object from another bedtime story had saved his life. "Most historians would agree with you; however, I can assure you the true Merlin, Morgana, and Arthur all existed."

"DAD!" James shook his head. "It's just a fairytale. It's not even a magical fairytale. It's muggle!"

Harry pulled out his wand and tapped the box with the tip. The five runes glowed harshly in different colors and golden sparks flew out of Harry's wand. A deep rumble emanated from inside the box as it rattled against the desk. Slowly the five runes pulsated with growing intensity, and a three-dimensional figure flickered into existence.

"Who awakens me from my slumber? I was having a rather good dream about these two young lasses…"

Harry cleared his throat, and the six-inch tall figure stopped talking. He adjusted his tiny glasses, hunching his back further. "Oh, it's you," said the figure in a dismissive tone.

James stared at the tiny ethereal old man. With a white beard which could rival Albus Dumbledore's, midnight blue robes, and an intricate ash colored staff the man could only be one person: Merlin.

"Well, hurry up with the questions. I don't have all day you know," snapped the man.

Harry folded his arms across his chest. "I happen to know you have all the time in the world, Emyrus."

"Ach," hissed Merlin, "never refer to me by that God awful name. I've told you before, Four-Eyes, I am Lord Merlin le Fay."

James choked on a cough. "Le Fay?"

Merlin spun around to face him. Shaking his staff accusingly, Merlin started screaming in what James assumed was ancient Gaelic.

Harry cast a silencing charmed and sighed. "As you can see, he can be rather temperamental."

"Right, but le Fay?" asked James, stunned.

"From the little I can get him to tell me without him going off on me, he hated his father, and, when he consented to tutor Morgana in the use of her magic, he took the family name."

James wide-eyed continued to stare at the little figure who still had not figured out they could not hear him. "But le Fay?"

Harry shrugged. "Whatever she turned into at the end, it appears Merlin was as fond of her as he was of Arthur."

"This must be a trick. Surely, it's a well-designed enchantment, a fantastic party favor. Is it one of Uncle George's?"

Harry shook his head. "There is little doubt Merlin created this box in order to store some of his most precious and dangerous discoveries. In order to ensure only the true of heart could gain access to the treasures within he created a Horcrux of sorts to act as guardian."

James wanted to ask more questions, but his father silenced him before removing his charm from the tiny Merlin. The figure was red in the face and much more solid than before.

"My son, James," introduced Harry.

Merlin lowered his staff. "Another imbecile, I'm sure."

James bristled but kept his mouth closed.

"Whatever your lot in life, Merlin, I expect you to be cordial to guests," admonished Harry.

Merlin glared over his shoulder at Harry. "I am the defender of the knowledge within my eternal prison. Cordial is not part of the job description."

"Nevertheless, sophomoric remarks only serve to undermine the grandeur of your reputation."

Merlin huffed and stuck out his tongue. "Your question, good sir."

Harry looked over at James. "Do you have anything to ask him?"

James cleared his dry throat. "Right, um—how—no—uh."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "He has proven my previous assertion was correct."

Harry withdrew his wand again. "Perhaps, you could explain to my son how you came to be in my possession?"

Merlin remained silent for a moment. "The latest and last Lady of the Lake saw fit to hand me over to you rather than let me remain with my true owner."

"Lady of the Lake?" whispered James.

"Yes, oaf, the Lady of the Lake, may the Powers grant her a more restful afterlife than they did me," said Merlin with a deeper reverence than he had shown previously.

"Who was the Lady of the Lake?" asked James.

Merlin tutted his tongue. "What do they teach you at school, boy? Rowena must be twisting in her grave. Please tell me you were not a member of my house. I might die of the shame…"

Harry cleared his throat again. Merlin huffed.

"The Lady of the Lake was a position I created when I had Excalibur forged for my King. The beautiful Nimue was the first. Each Lady passes on the title when the world has need of Excalibur. The heir to Arthur receives the sword, and the new Lady is bound to keep the sword safe until the world's suffering is so great the sword is needed again."

Harry interrupted. "Unfortunately, the powers of evil found a way around this protection."

"The Fidelius Charm is a powerful enchantment, but even it fades with time," argued Merlin.

"So the Lady was the secret keeper?" questioned James.

Merlin shook his head. "No, I was the secret keeper, but with my death, all who I had told of Excalibur's existence became secret keepers. Through the generations, the secret spread too thin, breaking the charm."

Harry nodded somberly. "The previous Lady of the Lake was able to pass on the title and Excalibur before evil killed her."

"Who…"

Merlin hushed James. "Thankfully, I cleverly spelled this box to appear when Excalibur was in it's greatest danger."

"Who cares about some ruddy sword? What about the lady who lost her life? What about the new Lady of the Lake?" snapped James.

Harry held up his hands forestalling the brewing shouting match. "I have told you about the first family to use the triquetra. The other really is the same family just from a minor branch. The Warren line were powerful witches and wizards, and when they departed for the New World it shook the magical community on the continent to its core."

"Wait, wait, wait. I know that name," said James.

Merlin grinned. "I was a bit too hasty in my judgment."

"Warren—Melinda Warren! She was one of the few true witches to die during the Salem Witch Trials."

Merlin clapped his hands twice. "She was a foolish woman. Burning at the stake all because of some fear for her daughter's life. We, witches and wizards, have little to fear from muggles."

"Much has changed since you walked among the living."

"Well, it is no matter, her sacrifice—foolish or not— did save the child. From that child sprang forth the Warren line culminating in the mighty Charmed Ones," continued Merlin.

James's head was spinning. It was one thing for Merlin to be real, but the Charmed Ones? This whole night must be part of one very bizarre trip. "What the hell," he murmured.

Merlin laughed. "You can blame Godric for that particular legendary legislative foul-up."

Harry reached over and placed a reassuring hand on James's forearm. "I know it is a lot t take in, but this is something you have to know."

"Why?"

Harry looked down at Merlin. "You have fulfilled your duties for the night. Thank you."

Merlin grumbled something in Gaelic and vanished with a pop. The glowing runes fizzled away, and the box stopped rattling.

Harry sat up straight. "Piper Halliwell was a good friend of your mother and me."

"I know," said James.

"Piper Halliwell was also a descendant of Melinda Warren. Specifically, she was the eldest surviving Charmed One, and she was also the last Lady of the Lake."

James shook his head. "So little Annie is the son of a Charmed One."

"That is correct. When Piper knew her time was coming, she made me promise I would look after her children and try and get them spots at Hogwarts. She also gave me the box to safeguard until her sons had need of it."

James bit his lip. "Chris—Chris is Annie's brother!"

Harry bobbed his head. "A fact that must remain a secret, as must the truth of Anakin's last name."

James slumped deeper into his seat. Anakin had shown up on his parent's doorstep the night before the start of James's fourth year at Hogwarts. The tiny blond had introduced himself as Anakin Halliwell but asked that they call him Anakin Perry instead. He quickly befriended Albus and Scorpius. Months before the Christmas holidays, James knew he had another faux-adopted brother. Anakin was as much a part of the Potter family, now, as Teddy. Only now, he knew the real reason Anakin never went to see his family.

"Where's Chris? Where's Annie's father?"

Harry sighed deeply. "That is a story for another night, but I promise you will know everything before—well, before the mission."

It took James a moment to remember the reason they had started this whole conversation. "What is the mission?"

Harry removed his round-rimmed glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I need you to steal Excalibur."

"WHAT!" James jumped to the feet. His chair toppled over.

"Quiet, James!"

James remained standing. "Who has Excalibur? If you're friends with Piper surely you know…"

"Arthur's true heir is Wyatt Halliwell, Anakin and Chris's eldest brother."

This did little to calm James down. "So then you can just ask for it."

"Wyatt Halliwell is the Emperor of the United States."

The absurdity was too much. James burst out laughing.

"James. James! JAMES!"

James clutched his sides as he continued to laugh.

Harry waved his hand, and James found himself in a Full Body-Bind. "I'm sorry, but this is not a laughing matter. If I am right, the future of the wizarding world depends on the success of this mission."

The charm lifted without his father moving a muscle. "But—it's—fuck."

"Exactly," said Harry not bothering to reprimand his son for the foul language. He stood up and returned the box to its place above the fireplace. "Think things over. We'll discuss everything the day after tomorrow."

James wanted to argue, but a knock on the office door made him hold his tongue.

"Head Auror Potter, Auror Potter is needed for his debriefing," said Elisa Doge the ancient miniature witch who served as Harry's secretary.

"Thank you, Elisa. My son was just leaving," said Harry kindly, not hint of the serious of the previous conversation in his tone or expression

James grimaced wanting terribly to talk more with his dad. "Da—."

"I'll see you for dinner on Tuesday."

James recognized the dismissal and left the office with questions swirling around in his head.

Harry watched James leave before turning to the portrait hanging behind his desk. "Will you inform Minerva I require a few moments of her time before the feast tomorrow?"

A surly Severus Snape pursed his lips and glared down at Harry over his hooked nose. "The Headmistress will be extremely busy preparing the castle for the arrival of the students, Potter."

Harry nodded. "I understand, but this is important, Snape."

Snape strode out of the painting, cloak billowing behind him. Exhaustion washed over Harry as he returned to his chair and the pile of paperwork. He picked up Perkins' report and started to read where he had left off. After the reading the same sentence for the tenth time and still unable to recall what it had said, Harry admitted defeat and shoved the report to the edge of the desk. He summoned his cloak and stood up, checking the watch Mrs. Weasley had given him on his seventeenth birthday. Groaning at the lateness of the hour, he pulled on his traveling cloak and left his office.

"Still here, Elisa?"

Elisa, the wife of Elphias, had been the secretary for every Head Auror since before Voldemort's first rise to power. She showed incredible loyalty and refused to leave her post until Harry left as well.

"I had a few memos for the other departments to outline," said Elisa in her melodious voice.

Harry knew she was fibbing but also knew he was never going to change her ways. "I'm off home. Don't stay much longer. I'm sure your husband would love to see you."

"Old Elphie is long since asleep, Mr. Potter."

"Well, tell him I say 'hello' when he wakes." Harry stifled a yawn. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mr. Potter."

Harry almost made it to the elevators without interruption, but Paul O'Brian caught him right as his pressed the call button.

"Good evening, Paul," said Harry happily, masking his aggravation easily.

Paul was a stout wizard with graying amber hair and tiny brown eyes. He worked in the Hit Wizard Squad and was well known for his short fuse. "A word, Potter."

Harry held his tongue. "Anything I can help you with?"

Paul pulled him unceremoniously over to a shadowy corner. "I heard through the grapevine we have yet another disappearance."

"Yes, but I can't go over the specifics, you know that."

Paul narrowed his eyes. "We need to get on top of this."

"I agree. I have one of our best Aurors investigating, and, once we know more, there will be a departmental briefing"

"If you need help, let me know."

Harry nodded. "Thank you, Paul, I'll let you know."

"Night, Potter."

Harry did not respond as Paul stalked back down the corridor to his offices.

"What did Paul want?"

Harry genuinely smiled. "To know about the disappearance. How are you, Hermione?"

Hermione dressed in a dark muggle businesswoman suit linked her arm with Harry's. "I hate meetings."

"Scotland Yard or Parliament?"

"Scotland Yard."

They reached the elevator and Harry pressed the button. "It could be worse."

Hermione huffed. "One of them told me to get back in the kitchen."

"I'm sure you set him straight."

Hermione shrugged. "It's not like they'll remember any of it. The Obliviators were arriving just when I left."

"That's the fourth mass muggle attack we've had in the past month."

They stepped onto the elevator and slipped into comfortable silence. Only when they reached the Atrium did Hermione speak up again. "Are you ready for your speech tomorrow?"

"I'm sure Ginny has it all written out for me."

They reached the apparition point.

"Dinner on Tuesday?" asked Harry unlinking their arms.

Hermione nodded. "Perfect." She tilted and vanished with a pop.

Harry took one last look around the nearly deserted atrium before following Hermione's lead and disapparating not for home but for the Hog's Head. He still had one more meeting to attend before he could sleep.

The morning of September 1st was a chaotic affair in the Potter household. Even without the traumatic experience of trying to get James ready and getting in the car on time there were enough delays so that when the group of six arrived on Platform 9 ¾ there was no time to waste on prolonged goodbyes. Anakin had already boarded the train. Harry stood beside his beautiful wife as she tried unsuccessfully to straighten Albus's tie. The younger wizard kept looking around.

"He is most certainly on the train already," said Harry in an attempt to keep his son still and to prevent Ginny from exploding.

Albus ran a hand through his newly cut black hair, an attempt to tame the unruly Potter hair. "I promised to wish him luck before his prefect's meeting."

Ginny threw up her hands in defeat. "Fine, I give up. Good luck, dear, see you at Christmas."

Albus bent down and kiss his mother on the cheek. His emerald eyes twinkled with anticipation. "Thanks, mom. Love you. See ya, dad."

Before Harry could respond his son disappeared with his trunk onto the bustling train. Harry spotted the all too familiar blond hair of Scorpius Malfoy inside one of the compartments and smiled. He wrapped his arm around Ginny before she started pestering their daughter.

"You best get on board, Lil," commented Harry.

Ginny shrugged off his arm. "Yes, sweetie, be good."

Lily, red-haired and brown eyed, smiled and waved back at her parents as she too vanished into the crowd.

"Cutting it a bit fine, Ginny."

Harry and Ginny both turned around to greet Angelina Johnson, she kept her last names. The former Gryffindor chaser had a big grin on her face that did not quite reach her eyes. Two of her best friends were among their fellow classmates to have disappeared in the recent year. Alicia Spinnet had vanished without a trace on a trip to see some family in Northern Ireland. Katie Bell had last been seen just outside the visitor's entrance to the Ministry.

"How's Roxie?" asked Harry.

Angelina chuckled. "Ecstatic! She still can't believe McGonagall made her a prefect, and it doesn't hurt that the other fifth year Gryffindor prefect is her latest crush."

Ginny joined Angelina in gossiping about their children, nieces, and nephews. Harry left the two women to their musings and wondered down the quickly emptying platform. He could still remember his first trip to Hogwarts and his amazement as he discovered magic. As he passed windows, he spotted familiar faces of his extended family, most too engaged with their friends to notice him. Young Lucy, however, spotted him and stuck her head out her compartment's window.

"How's it going, Uncle Harry?"

Harry stepped up the train and strained to give her a kiss on the cheek. "Ready for another exciting year?"

Lucy ducked back into the compartment and reappeared with a very nervous looking boy. "This is Mac Thornburg."

Harry grinned at the boy who went beet-red. "How do you do?"

Mac mumbled something and slipped out of Lucy's grip. Lucy sighed. "Sorry, he's always wanted to meet the famous Harry Potter."

"Don't worry, sweetie."

Lucy rolled her brown eyes in mock exasperation. The whole family was used to the reactions of others when they met Harry. "So do you know who's giving the annual speech this year?"

"Now, now, Lucy, you know just how much trouble I'd be in if I told you that," admonished Harry playfully.

Lucy huffed. "Daddy was all closed-lipped as well."

Harry shrugged. "Your dad's always been one for following the rules."

"I could bribe you. I've got a half dozen chocolate frogs somewhere…"

Harry laughed heartily. "Your Aunt Ginny has me on a diet." He patted his stomach for emphasis.

Lucy sighed, giving up. "Well, it was worth a try. Did you hear that Roxie made prefect?"

Harry nodded. "I had heard. You'll have to congratulate her for me. I sent her an owl but for good measure."

"'Course, Uncle Harry."

"Lucy!" cried a girl inside the train.

"Hey, Gemma!" Lucy waved over her shoulder. "Ok, got to go. Bye!"

"Good luck this term," shouted Harry through the closed window just as the whistle blew.

Harry stepped back and was joined by Ginny and Angelina. They all waved goodbye in case any of their kids were watching and remained on the platform until the train vanished around the first bend. Ginny lowered her hand and wrapped it around his waist.

"I've got to get to the office," said Ginny, pecking him on the cheek.

Angelina nodded. "I'm heading over there as well. George wants a new advert to run in the Sunday edition of the Prophet."

Harry gave Ginny a kiss. "Ok, I know when I'm not wanted."

Ginny smacked his shoulder playfully. "Good luck, tonight, dear."

"Yeah, Harry, knock them dead," said Angelina.

Both witches vanished with soft pops, leaving Harry alone on the platform. Knowing it was too early to go meet McGonagall, Harry decided to check the office before heading to Hogwarts. He twirled and disapparated on the spot; he reappeared next to one of the floo fires in the Atrium.

"Good morning, Head Auror Potter," greeted Dan Marksberry, a newly graduated Law Enforcement Wizard.

"Morning, Marksberry. Heading out or coming back?"

Dan pocketed his wand. "Just getting back. There was a little skirmish at that run-down bar in Hogsmeade."

Harry indicated they should start walking. "Nothing too serious I hope."

"Oh no, just old Mundungus aggravating the barman."

Harry inwardly hoped Aberforth cursed Mundungus's nose off, but he kept the thought to himself. He never truly forgave Mundungus's cheek of hawking Sirius's old family heirlooms. "Have Timothy forward your report to me. I know the barman, old family friend."

Dan nodded. "Will do!"

They reached the elevators. Dan got on one heading down to the Law Enforcement Offices while Harry squeezed into the tiny elevator reserved for those meeting with the Minister. The Minister's personal elevator speed up to the Minister's office at an ungodly speed, making Harry's stomach turn over. When it finally stopped, he stumbled out of it swearing to never use the thing again.

"Perhaps you should stick to the stairs, Potter," drawled Draco Malfoy.

Harry straightened up and glared at his old school enemy.

Draco smirked. "Beatrice, thank you for your time. Potter."

Beatrice giggled like a schoolgirl. Harry stepped up to her desk, ignoring Draco's departure.

"He is dreamy," commented Beatrice.

Harry grunted. "Haven't noticed, Ms. Pennyfeather. Is the Minster busy?"

Beatrice opened up a massive tome and poured over it while twirling a strand of her shockingly pink hair. "He's about to finish a meeting with the Australian Minister. Shall I inform him you are here, Mr. Potter?"

Harry shook his head. "It is no matter. I can wait."

Harry walked over to the large purple couch set against the lone fireplace and sat down. He picked up the obligatory Daily Prophet and scanned the first dozen headlines when someone called his name.

"Harry, my boy!" greeted Percy Weasley.

Harry replaced the newspaper and stood up, shaking Percy's hand. "Hello, Percy. I just saw Lucy."

Percy smiled and lead them into his meager office. "Yes, I so wish I could have been there to see the girls off, but with the Australian Ministry visiting, I thought Minister Shacklebolt may require my help. Audrey was very understanding."

Harry nodded. "Of course. How is the visit going?"

Percy glanced out his open office door. "Truth be told, Harry, Minister Goossens is a bear of a man. He is completely up in arms about his country once again not being considered as a host for the Quidditch World Cup. He is acting like we are the ones who made the decision."

"It is an ICW decision, is it not?" asked Harry, pretending to be interested.

Percy nodded fervently. "And Minister Shacklebolt has already stated we would back Australia as a host country for the following Cup, but Goossens is having none of it. I've just been down to see Games and Sports, but they were obviously no help."

Harry had no doubt that Avery Hawksworth could have helped Percy, but the two had never seen eye to eye. Avery was a fan of Ludo Bagman and his style of leadership; Percy still could not see the good in the man. His option heavily influenced by Barty Crouch, Sr.

"What about International Magical Cooperation?"

Percy sprang out of his seat. "Why didn't I think of that? Robards is always such a helpful fellow. Thanks, Harry!"

Harry followed Percy back into the main office.

Beatrice cleared her throat. "The Minister can see you now, Mr. Potter."

Harry bowed his head. "Thank you, Ms. Pennyfeather."

Harry entered the Minister's office to be greeted by Kingsley pacing back and forth in front of a glowing green fire.

"Harry, close the door if you will," said Kingsley by ways of greetings.

Harry shut the door, sealed it, and added an impervious charm for good measure. "I take it Minister Goossens's visit is not solely about Quidditch."

The head of Sturgis Podmore appeared in the fire. "Minister!"

Kingsley stepped aside to allow Harry space near the fire.

"And Harry. What is the matter?"

Kingsley rubbed his temple. "Sturgis, do you still have family in Australia?"

Sturgis frowned and his graying straw-colored hair fluttered around his head. "A distant cousin, but we've not spoken in years. Why?"

Kingsley faced Harry. "It seems there has been another disappearance. Only this one did not go quietly. It seems the abductors underestimated Lee Jordan's abilities and in the ensuing battle no less than thirteen men and women were gravely injured."

Harry groaned. "And the Minister is blaming you—us."

Kingsley nodded. "He is threatening to take the matter before the ICW, blatant disregard for the safety of wizardkind and the like."

"I assume he will not consent to having a few of our Aurors going down and questioning the survivors."

Kingsley nodded and turned back to Sturgis. "I was hoping you could pay your cousin a visit."

Sturgis nodded. "Of course, Minister."

Harry bent down to be level with Sturgis's eyes. "Be careful, my friend. These abductors have all the makings of being another gang of Death Eaters. It would not surprise me if some of them are not former followers of Voldemort. They are ruthless and terribly cunning."

Sturgis nodded. "Thanks for the warning, Harry, but I survived both of Wizarding Wars. It'll take more than a few black magic practitioners to take me down. Minister."

Sturgis's head spun very quickly for a moment and then vanished.

"I take it your investigations into these disappearances extend beyond those you provide in the Ministry reports."

Harry answered cautiously, "I have a theory of who they are and what they are hoping to achieve."

"And I am not to be privy to this knowledge," said Kingsley sadly.

"Unfortunately, it'd be best if I kept my musings to myself for the time being, Minister."

Kingsley agreed promptly. "Why did you want to meet with me?"

Harry shook his head. "It doesn't matter at the moment. With Lee Jordan, eleven of my classmates have vanished. Twelve have been attacked if we included Hannah."

"So you think her illness is not natural?"

"I'm an Auror; everything and everyone is suspect until proven otherwise."

Kingsley laughed darkly. "Alastor would be proud."

Harry glanced at his watch. "I have a meeting with McGonagall."

"Use my fireplace, Harry."

Harry grimaced but thanked Kingsley. Floo had never been his favorite way to travel. He grabbed a handful of the powder and chucked it into the flames. The flames turned green and rose high enough to take over the entire fireplace. He stepped forward, clearly said his destination, and shut his eyes tight as the swirling began. The spinning began to slow, and he reached out to catch himself.

"Careful to not leave too much ash on the carpet, Mr. Potter," said a bored voice.

Harry blinked and chuckled. "Do you tell that to every person, or am I special?"

Minerva McGonagall sat behind her old desk in the Transfiguration classroom. She wore a pair of dark robes and the matching conical hat. Her glasses sat half-way down her nose as she gazed over them at Harry in a very Dumbledore-like fashion. Her gray hair was thinner than when he was at school, but she still wore it in the same tight and neat style. Despite her advancing age, Harry saw not hint of her slowing or tiring.

"I only inform those who need reminding of manners," replied McGonagall in the same cool and uninterested tone.

Harry dusted off his robes, pleased to see only minimal ash on them. "I'm getting better."

Minerva only raised an eyebrow. "Stick to broomsticks, Mr. Potter."

"Why are we meeting here?"

"I am having the house-elves clean my office, and Professor Wolpert was kind enough to offer his classroom."

Harry withdrew his wand and drew himself a comfortable chair. "How is Nigel handling teaching?"

McGonagall set down the journal she had been reading. "He is performing quite adequately as I am sure you are aware. The Board does review the performance of all the professors annually."

Harry shuddered. He always hated the annual review process; it felt weird grading his former professors and friends.

"Most of the house-elves are busy preparing the Welcoming Feast, but I'm sure they'll happily make something for lunch," offered McGonagall.

"No, thanks, I'm not sure I'd be able to keep anything down."

"It is just a speech, Mr. Potter, and I can assure you most will be too busy reacquainted themselves with their friends and housemates to pay much attention to you."

The idea of public speaking never appealed to him, but he felt that this speech needed to be done right. There were tough times ahead for the wizarding world, and it was his duty to prepare the coming generation without frightening them.

"You are following the Prophet's take on the latest round of disappearances?"

McGonagall lifted the Prophet. "They reported on Ms. Bones's disappearance this morning."

Harry continued, "There is a war brewing again, Minerva."

McGonagall moved closer to him. "And we will meet it head on like every time before."

"This is different. They are more cunning, more sinister. It feels different. I'm not sure we will weather it as well as the minor uprisings since Voldemort."

"You have spoken at great lengths with Dumbledore on this matter, have you not?"

Harry could only nod. He had spent a great deal of time talking to his deceased headmaster.

"Then he has given you his opinion on the matter."

Harry rubbed his old scar. It had not pained him in ages, but it had not faded either. "He is not infallible."

Minerva leaned back. "That is neither here nor there, Mr. Potter. What you suggest—what you fear—it is impossible."

"That is the exact attitude which got us in trouble the last time."

McGonagall sighed. "Evil has always been with us, Harry. It does not always mean there is some great meaning behind it."

"Fine, but will you indulge me?"

McGonagall folded her arms, concern in her eyes. "How?"

Harry leaned in close and whispered, "The Order."

Harry eyed his former Transfiguration professor for any emotion. She sat dead still as she pondered his request.

"The Order is hardly needed. You and Kingsley are part of the Ministry."

Harry slumped back. "And the Ministry is ready to fall. I cannot trust them to do what is right. Old fractions regained a great deal of public trust. Confidence in Kingsley's leadership falters with every disappearance. The Order may be needed sooner rather than later. I'd prefer for us to be prepared rather than have us scrambling when the time comes."

McGonagall licked her thin lips. "Then why do you not call for a meeting?"

"I am followed too closely. If it appears that I am making moves to destabilize the Ministry, I'll find myself in a cell in Azkaban."

"Do not jest. The public would not stand for it."

Harry sighed. "It is not the public who would decide my fate, but the Wizengamot. The House of Potter has never wielded a great deal of power in that regard."

"I will gather together the old crowd. Shall I also call on those who once belonged to Dumbledore's Army?"

Harry had not expected McGonagall to give in so easily. "Yes, all those who we know are truly on our side. Even those abroad, especially those abroad. This will not be a war contained to our fair island, I fear."

"Then let the preparations begin," said McGonagall with steely resolve.

Harry stood on Hagrid's back porch petting the aging Buckbeak as the thestral-pulled carriages took their meandering path up to the castle from Hogsmeade Station. He had spent the remainder of the afternoon after talking to McGonagall visiting Hagrid. The half-giant was only too happy to have company as he hitched up the thestrals to the carriages. The visit had the desired effect of making Harry forget his upcoming speech. Now with the carriages drawing near, the nerves had returned.

"Give me a duel with a dark lord any day, Buckbeak."

The hippogriff nipped his fingers affectionately and stalked off to the other end of the pumpkin patch. The massive beast collapsed comfortably into the nest of hay and old feathers. Buckbeak tucked his head beneath a gray wing and was soon fast asleep. Harry took a deep breath and slipped back into Hagrid's hut. Hagrid, of course, was escorting the first years across the lake. Harry bent down and pet the now blind Fang as a way of goodbye. The giant dog lazily returned the gesture with a slobbery kiss.

Harry strolled up to the castle in the twilight air. He had missed Hogwarts and its grounds. The school had been a second home for him during his childhood. The responsibilities of adulthood left him no time to visit during the intervening years. He did take every opportunity to return, but they were few and far between. He had a feeling it would not be the case this year. He passed by the greenhouses and spotted Neville.

"Hello, Neville," called Harry.

Neville poked his head out from behind a plant with orange and lemon colored leaves. Some of the leaves wrapped around Neville's wrists while he was distracted. The current herbology professor and Head of Gryffindor floundered for a moment before casting a spell. The leaves retreated with yelps of pain. Neville took a step away from the plant.

"Hey, Harry! Ready for tonight?" asked Neville, brushing off his robes.

Harry nodded and shrugged. "Not much I can do about it at this point, is there? Is the plant a new addition?"

Neville nodded proudly. "Yeah, I picked it up during my trip to Africa for the annual Herbology Expo. I think I'm going to make it a class project for my NEWT students."

"Sounds exciting. How's Hannah doing?"

Neville's smile weakened slightly. "She still tires easily. The healers at St. Mungo's are still unsure what ails her. Has Zabini had any luck?"

Harry shook his head. "He said it'll take a month or more before all his experiments are complete. I'll make sure anything he finds is passed onto St. Mungo's."

Neville patted Harry on the back. "Thanks, Harry. How is James holding up in Auror training?"

Harry chuckled. "The Ministry is still standing for the moment. I count that as a triumph."

"Yes, the school is going to be awfully quite without Fred and him making havoc. McGonagall is breathing a sigh of relief."

"She shouldn't lower her guard too much. I overheard James explain to Lily it was her job to take over for him."

Neville laughed jollily. "Not Albus or Anakin?"

"They are both dating prefects. James considers them traitors to the Marauder's tradition."

Neville sighed. "I guess I'll have to live with another year of Gryffindor not winning the House Cup."

Harry smiled. "You never know, Lily is far sneakier than either of her brothers. She might not get caught."

They reached the front doors.

"I best join the rest of the staff in the Great Hall. See you in a bit."

Harry checked his watch. It was almost time for the first years to arrive. He hurried out of the Entrance Hall and around the corner into the side corridor where all those years ago McGonagall had given him and his fellow first years their first introduction to Hogwarts. He was not surprised to see Professor Flitwick patiently waiting with the Sorting Hat and stool.

"Good Evening, Professor," greeted Harry.

The tiny man jumped and sparks shot out of his withdrawn wand. "Good gracious, Potter, you shouldn't sneak up on an old man like that. My heart is not as strong as it used to be."

Harry sheepishly smiled. "Sorry, Professor."

"Come now, Potter, you are no longer a student here. I'm Filius."

Harry bowed his head graciously. "Only if you call me Harry."

They both laughed. It was a conversation they both had many times since the war. Flitwick re-holstered his wand and patted the Hat. "The Hat is still not happy about our new tradition."

Harry eyed the old relic with some apprehension. His experiences with it were not his most enjoyable. "Has it regained the ability to sing?"

Flitwick shook his head, and the Hat shuddered. The sound of footsteps brought their conversation to a stop. Harry stepped into the shadows with such easy it would have made his Auror trainer proud. Hagrid rounded the corner leading a small horde of first years. Harry smiled; the group was considerably larger than his cohort. At least, some of the effects of Voldemort's reign were fading. Flitwick cleared his throat and started in on a speech similar to the one McGonagall had given him all those years previous.

Hagrid sidled up to him. "Ready, 'Arry?"

Harry nodded. The half-giant grinned and headed into the Great Hall ahead of Flitwick and the First Years. Harry slipped in behind the last straggler, a scrawny blond boy with enough freckles to give Ron a run for his money. He easily slid into an empty seat at the Gryffindor table. No one noticed him. He watched the Sorting and listened intently to the traditional welcome speech. His stomach started to twist itself into knots as the ending of McGonagall's speech approached.

"…In years past we would release you to enjoy the Welcoming Feast which our house elves have worked very hard on, but I fear we must break with tradition. Our annual guest speaker has graciously given us a few moments of his valuable time. Alas, he is scheduled to meet with the Minister and must be on his way. I hope you will all indulge him in addressing us before dinner. It is a great honor for Hogwarts to once again welcome Mr. Harry James Potter into its hallowed halls. Mr. Potter?"

Harry stood up as the student body erupted into thunderous applause. He shook his head and motioned for silence as he walked up to join the Headmistress. He bowed his head and thanked her quietly before turning to face his true audience. The members of his family scattered throughout the sea of black robes wore a mixture of pride and shock on their faces. He wished he had a camera on him to preserve the moment to share with the others.

"Thank you, thank you. Thank you, Headmistress. Believe me, the honor is all mine. I—I am not one to live in the spotlight. In fact, public speaking is one of my worst fears, but I could not pass on the opportunity to visit this school and embarrass my children. I only wish it happened a year sooner, and I could tell you a story or two about James."

This garnered a flutter of laughter. Harry searched the crowd for his other son. Seated at the Slytherin table next to a boy with blond hair and a familiar smirk, Albus Potter met his gaze with a silent plea. Harry dipped his head ever so slightly. Albus's face was awash with relief.

Harry continued, "I have spoken to a number of previously honored guests. They all had their unique perspective on the importance of the speech. Some like George Weasley saw it as a moment to start the school year off with a joke and a laugh. Others, like the Minister, used it to stress the importance of your studies. I would be remiss to not say your classes are very important. I am also not here to tell you to not enjoy your time here. Hogwarts is an amazing place. You are surrounded by some of the most gifted and impressive people, and, no, I am not just talking about the staff."

Rose's gasp of shock cut through the din.

"I am here to remind you, to remind all of us, the importance of friendship. The relationships forged here will last a lifetime. I could never have done any of the remarkable things others credit to me without the help of my friends. Friends I made right here. It was the friendship and love for each other that allowed us to triumph at the Battle of Hogwarts. I—I…"

Harry looked out over the crowd.

"There are forces at work in the world who want to tear us down. They want to establish a new world order. They want to destroy all we love. They will accomplish all this if we do not remain united. We must stand steadfast against the forces of darkness. They cannot win if we do not let them."

"I am sure you have heard of the disappearances or the attacks. They are nothing to fear, but we must be vigilant. Look out for each other. Be a friend."

Harry lowered his hands. He lost the smile. "Everything you learn in the classroom, all you do on the Quidditch field, will come to naught if you do not have friends. Thank you."

Whispers broke out across the Hall. Harry turned back to face the staff. In a lowered voice he said, "I must be going."

Neville jumped out of his seat. "I'll walk you to the door."

McGonagall gave him a stern look. Harry started for the door. Neville caught up to him quickly. A few students tried to catch him, but Harry slipped out of their grips. He reached the Entrance Hall and stopped, breathing heavily.

"Harry!" gasped Neville.

Harry nodded. "I know. I know. It had to be said. They cannot be left in the dark. They need to prepare."

"They're just kids!"

"Yes, exactly. I know what they're like. I remember being them. Don't you?"

Neville looked at him with wide eyes. "Of course, I do, Harry, but…"

Harry took a deep breath. "I said nothing that will get either you or Minerva in trouble. I want them prepared not frightened."

Neville nodded. "But…"

"Dinner, tomorrow at my place. There are something you need to be made aware of my friend."

Someone burst through the doors. Both men turned to see Albus struggling with another Slytherin.

"Albus!"

Albus batted his friend's hand off him. "DAD!"

Harry stepped forward. "It's alright, Scorpius."

Scorpius gulped and straightened his robes. "Right, Mr. Potter."

Neville placed a hand on Scorpius's shoulder. "We have a feast to get back to."

"Tell Minerva I am sorry."

Harry and Albus stepped away from the doors. Harry waited until the doors shut behind Neville and Scorpius before addressing his son. "Albus?"

"What was that?"

Harry sighed. "My speech."

Albus arched an eyebrow. "Mom approved of that? You do remember that Lily was there? And Anakin? Never mind all those first years!"

Harry gestured for them to continue to walk. "Albus, nothing I said in there was news to any of you. It is the same lesson I've been trying to teach you and your siblings since you were babies. Be nice. Be kind. And look out for each other."

Albus frowned. "Yeah, but that—that was—you made it sound so serious."

"Because it is serious. It is the most important lesson you will ever learn."

"Dad…"

Harry shook his head. "No, Albus, it is true. You know it is true. Nothing is more important than that. Voldemort was able to do what he did not because he was so powerful or one of the cleverest wizards. He was able to win for so long because he fractured relationships. He made everyone feel like they were alone. He turned his enemies against each other."

Albus huffed and sulked. "You could've phrased it nicer."

"Are you walking me across the grounds?" They had reached the front steps.

Albus looked back into the castle. "I don't need everyone pestering me at dinner."

Harry nodded. "Get a note from Neville. Your mother will not be pleased with either of us if she receives a letter from your head of house on the first day."

"Yeah, yeah…"

Father and son headed off into the night. When they passed Hagrid's cabin Harry had Fang join them. He did not want Albus walking back to the castle alone. Hogwarts was the safest place in the world, but he did not want to tempt fate. They reached the apparition point.

"Take care, Albus."

Albus hugged him. "You too, Dad."

Albus reached the Entrance Hall as the feast ended. He tried to slip into the flow of students heading for the dungeons. Someone caught him by the arm and spun him around. Albus found himself face to face with the newest addition to the Hogwarts staff. Gaheris Pureheart stood a foot shorter than Albus. He had very short black hair trimmed into a mock military crew cut. His small brown eyes pierced Albus's emerald green ones. His face was set in an almost sinister glare. He crooked his thin finger once and started walking against the flow of Slytherin students. Albus sighed and followed.

They reached a small office on the first floor. Professor Pureheart opened the door with a jab of his thick and fat wand. He waved Albus into the cramped room and locked the door behind them with another jab. Still silent the man took a seat behind his desk. Albus stood with his hands behind his back.

"Mr. Potter." The words slid off the man's tongue. Albus felt an instant dislike for the man and knew the feeling was mutual. "Mr. Potter," he repeated, "you left the Welcoming Feast without permission."

"Sir," started Albus, but Pureheart held up his hand for silence.

"I am talking, Mr. Potter. You will be told when you can speak. Do I make myself clear?"

Albus swallowed hard. "Yes, sir."

Pureheart conjured a glass of fire whiskey and took a drawn out sip. "I have not had a great deal of time to read up on how my predecessor handled students, but I am quite sure my teaching style will be quite different. I do not abide rule breaking of any sort. I do not care of the excuse. The rules were written to provide stability and safety. They should be followed no matter how famous your parents."

Albus gritted his teeth. He was the last member of his family who needed to be reminded to obey the rules. His brother James broke the school record for most time served in detention by a student; a fact he was mightily proud of. Lily had most people fooled by her cute innocent girl act, but their mother and McGonagall saw through it on a regular basis. He was by no means a perfect student; he had a few detentions under his belt. Still, he was well below the Hogwarts' average.

"This is your first offense with me, Mr. Potter, so five points will be deducted from Slytherin House, and you will serve an hour long detention this Saturday. I will send you a note outlining the details of said detention later this week. You are dismissed."

Albus balled his hands into fists. "Yes, sir," he said with as much respect as he could muster.

Pureheart took another sip of his drink and flicked his wand. The door unlocked. "Oh, and Mr. Potter, rest assured I am watching you."

Albus hurried out of the room. He made it to the dungeons before the anger boiled over. He kicked the wall and yelled out a string of less than savory words he had learned during a trip to his Uncle Charlie in Romania. The unjustness of the situation gnawed at him. Professor Pureheart picked on him purely because of his name. It was going to be a long school year.

The Bloody Baron passed by and moaned ominously. Albus glared at the ghost. "What are you looking at?"

The Bloody Baron ruffled his blood stained tunic. "Your life is not so important, young man, or that difficult. Move along."

Albus muttered a curse word and rolled his eyes. He continued down the corridor. The dungeons were poorly lit at this time of night. Only prefects on patrol would be in the corridors, and they used their wands for light. He pulled out his wand and rolled it between his fingers. Growling in frustration, he stuffed the wand back into his pocket. Magic was not allowed in the corridors.

He followed the corridor deeper and further away from the castle. The temperature dropped, and the air grew damp. The Slytherin Common Room was partially situated beneath the Great Lake. It was also the most neglected part of the castle. Albus laughed harshly. His father's advice hit home as he continued on down. The Wizarding World needed to be united, but there were many who still blamed Slytherin House for all the darkness in the world. It did not help that many of the old pureblood families still held themselves above others. The hatred for muggle-borns and half-bloods had diminished greatly since the war, but he knew some of his housemates still felt magic was their right and it should not be shared with those beneath them. Prejudices did not vanish overnight.

His foul mood clouded his brain to the point that he missed the entrance and had to double back. He hissed the password and strutted into the Common Room. He needed to vent. The eerie green-tinged room was still filled with students. Every black-backed couch was occupied. He searched the crowd for his best friend. He spotted Scorpius, and all his anger with Pureheart vanished.

"WHAT THE FUCK!"

Scorpius was seated in their usual armchair by the fire. Crawled on top of him was Zabini, the sole other Slytherin seventh year boy. The two boys were pressed together; they were kissing. The shout stunned Zabini, and he fell out of the chair. Albus's eyes met Scorpius's across the now silent Common Room.

All thought and emotion abandoned him. He was dumbfounded. Albus stared at the scene. Scorpius seated in the chair with tousled blond hair and blood rushing from his face. Zabini collapsed in a heap at Scorpius's feet. The other students did not dare move.

Slowly, in utter disbelief, Albus shook his head. His eyes started to sting. He did not want to start crying in front of everyone. He would never live it down, and Scorpius did not deserve to see it. Breathing in deep gasps, he sprinted out of the room and down the dormitory stair. He vaguely heard his name being yelled out, but he ignored it.

He charged into his room. His trunk was already at the foot of his bed. Scorpius and he would normally marvel at how the house elves could know which bed they would want for the term. Unlike the other houses, Slytherins changed rooms every year, ensuring the oldest students were furthest from any noisy distraction from their studies.

At a loss for words, Albus flung himself onto his bed. With great violence, he pulled the curtains around his bed shut nearly ripping them off their railing in the process. Spelling them shut with a flick of his want, the teen started to break. Tears began to flow freely from his eyes. He gasped for breath between sobs. Another sloppy wave of his wand transfigured his robes into pajamas. They were Scorpius's favorite. Yelling, he jabbed his wand, changing the items to the dark green pair his mother and father had given him for the previous Christmas.

Satisfied, he flipped over and buried his head into his pillow. Anger boiled inside of him. His stomach turned and gurgled. He screamed and screamed until his throat felt like it would rip in two. Eventually, exhaustion overwhelmed him and he slipped into darkness. The school year was starting out brilliantly.

AN: What did you think? Interested in more? I hope so! Let me know in a review or PM.

AN: Side note, I am working on the next chapter for A Charmed World. School is wrapping up and it's taking up all my free time, but I've not abandoned it.