A/N: This is a sequel to Dames & Broads, Witches & Wizards

Chapter 1

The sun was at its zenith and pouring through the large windows as Harry Potter, the wizard, the teenager walked over to them, closing and securing the latches on the hatches over the windows.

The room instead was bathed in an amount of warm light globes, it wasn't dim, it was just lit, he wasn't sure what he'd describe it as, other than 'lighted'.

The steam was still rising off of the cup in the kitchen, and Harry Potter allowed himself to stand and think on it. The steam could have been wafting out of a tea pot. But if he was honest with himself he sometimes couldn't buggered washing the tea pot. Tea bags, bought from the supermarket down the road was just fine.

Harry Potter paused in his thoughts and walked into the other room, just as the door knocked. His instructor was never late, or he hadn't been since he'd met the blood drinker.

Harry Potter put down the mug on the coaster next to one of the chairs where he sat and read at night with the shutters open to the stars.

As the door was knocked on Harry Potter opened the door to the man on the other side allowing him in. Harry Potter smiled to his instructor, it was time to begin the lessons for the day.

A few months ago...

The broad was sweet enough in her own way; hips that swung in just the right way as she sauntered into the room, a skirt hiked up so anyone sitting opposite would know when she last had a piss, and pouty lips that your imagination just wanted to do dirty things with.

But that wasn't fooling him, the broad had a good body, but she wasn't the one in control.

There was a dame in there somewhere. Polyjuice potion.

That business with his client was also a poly-job. He'd wondered at the time why the big man, Dumbledore hadn't picked him up on it. If you knew what you were looking for you could tell.

This broad might look like a broad, smell like a broad and have legs that swung open like barn doors.

But she wasn't. The dame in there was good, but not good enough. Good enough for a disguise and she'd done a good job with it.

This dame needed her husband investingatin', stolen potions ingredients, which was where she obviously got her hands on the poly. She'd have to be a good brewer if she had managed to brew it, under a potion dealer's nose.

Powerful family too and harsh marriage rules, you needed rock hard proof. Proof that meant you didn't get the Ministry involved. You dealt with it in private. Or if not you got someone to dump the remains in a big or dirty body of water.

She left swishing those hips that weren't hers after depositing a wad of money, muggle and wizarding on his desk.

She'd be in touch. That was delivered with a pout filled kiss.

Always liked it when they pretended to mean it, and she pretended real hard.

-/

The pad on his desk, the one his secretary used informed him his next client was ready. One that had him on retainer.

That narrowed the list, but she liked to keep him on his toes. So he wouldn't drink too much during the day.

Drinkin' was the only way to get through some days, some days he liked to get so drunk he could barely stagger home.

On the bad days he'd drink the good stuff and get a bit of bad stuff off someone cheap in an alley. It never made him feel better, but those brief moments felt good. He only did that to beat away the dark stuff. That was the stuff that kept him going and keepin' it away.

-/

His client; Harry Potter walked into the room, he'd obviously been to tailors the blood drinkers recommended. Black suited him. Suited most people. A white suit was hard to wear, blood was a pain to get out of 'em.

Every time he wore a white suit he got blood on it. Weddings were always a shit storm when he was required. He never attended them otherwise.

His client was still having troubles, he'd hired his own legal to get him outta the contract that despite being voided by use of the poly, wasn't.

Seemed, that was what brought him back to his office he thought as he lit another up, taking a deep breath and blew out the smoke. The fan continued rotating. Sometimes when he was blind he fancied the fan judged him for the habit.

Those were odd times drunk on too much good alcohol. Bad liquor just made you vomit, not have complex thoughts about your ceiling fan.

"Everythin' working out with you and the blood drinkers?" I asked him once he was seated, I didn't offer him a drink, I knew his answer to that one.

He nodded, though was guarded still. He was more guarded than when I'd first met him. A little less open and more world wise was always a good thing.

Honest people were really hard to find in a world this fucked up.

"I wanted to employ you for another job." He said with some uncertainty. It had to have something to do with the troubles he'd been having, legal could only do so much, within the law. You needed someone that worked outside of that badly oiled machine.

Grit was something it disliked.

His next request I didn't see comin', but it made sense. I'd been asked the question before, by amnesiacs and spell backfires. I'd even been approached recently by an estate of some ponce; a fake. But he'd pissed me off in the past, they didn't know it. But I remembered what he'd done. We've got long memories, that's what stops ya getting knifed in the back, and remembered when to return the favour, I've found at least.

"I want you to investigate me." He said it with such calm, though there was still somethin' nervous in his tone.

He was giving me free reign, this kid knew some things, about his parents deaths, but it was the little things, the things in records, in the big books they let the kids read. Or more to the point he knew the things that weren't, and the whys that kept creeping up and threatening to slit his throat in the night.

Not that anyone could slip in during the night where his client was staying.

Contracts and such were complicated, and so he says issues kept creepin' up threatening to slit his throat in the night.

Law was messy shit, that's why I tended not to wade into it, when I could avoid it I did.

He mentioned his guardians.

Muggles.

If ya had enough money, and he did if he'd got a team together to work through the contract sides of things, the magical world didn't care. Unless it involved the magics, then it cared.

But the muggle side was darn curious for me. Way he put it, he'd been dropped with them and wasn't going back.

Taste of freedom was a hard one to fight.

Like my first taste of the bottle.

Rememberin' that that I poured myself another.

The man at Hogwarts, his involvement was gonna make things interestin', thought he had plenty of power.

I enjoyed interestin' work, I also liked to beat a scumbag into the cobbles around the alleys. Wizards never expected physical contact and there was a kinda amusing noise they made went they went down.

Like a balloon loosing its air slowly.

Kinda like an amusing whoopie cushion, with a bunch of red spray.

A/N:

After the positive reaction to Dames & Broads, Witches & Wizards I thought I would take another stab at writing this universe again and this voice for the narrator; the (unnamed) private detective.

I've given my best stab at this sequel, like the first I admit maintaining the private detective's voice and narrative perspective is really hard and in some chapters I veer away just because I couldn't move the story forward without doing so. But I have tried to maintain a similar aesthetic when I do drift away from the private detective.