AN:

This is a much more realistic and adult, and much less nice interpretation of the the whole Dramione pairng. It takes into account some of the things JK Rowling said about how she thought Ron and Hermione was a mistake, and how she was too smart for him. It's not a nice portrayal of Hermione nor of Ginny as it points out the inherent gynocentric attitude of our world and Rowling's world-view. This is very much a MGTOW fic.

Prolog:

3 Months Ago

It was cold and windy, and Harry felt the wind whip around him like ghosts pulling at his soul. He stood, a black outline against the gray sky as he looked down at the grave stone of the best friend he'd ever had. Shaking his head, he couldn't believe it had been a year—actually a year and a day—since he'd come home to find Ron lying in a pool of his own blood, a muggle revolver in his hand.

The ministry had ruled it an accident. He'd been studying a muggle artifact that had been jinxed when it went off and killed him. Of course, that was the official story that Minister of Magic Hermione Granger, had released. Her husband had died in the line of duty, doing what he loved.

Harry knew it was a lie. Harry knew that Ron had taken his own life after getting the divorce decree that left him homeless, childless, and totally destitute. He knew that the idea of what he'd seen on that cool June morning when he'd come home early to find his wife in bed with none other that Draco Malfoy had been forever seared into the red-headed auror's mind. He knew that somehow, Ron held himself responsible for the fact that Harry and Ginny had split up when it became clear that Harry's own ex-wife had been covering for Hermione.

He sighed again and lay the flowers he was carrying on the grave. "I'm sorry, my friend," was all he could muster to say.

"Harry..." it was a voice he had no desire to hear. "I'm sorry."

Turning he saw Hermione standing not far behind him. Two ministry bodyguards were at a discrete distance behind her.

"Minister," he said.

"Harry, I didn't want this," her voice carried no emotion.

"No," Harry replied. "I guess you didn't. I guess you consider it a bonus."

"That's unkind. I did not want Ron hurt."

"You should have thought of that before you climbed into bed with Draco Malfoy."

"It was a mistake," she said. "Ron should have never been examining that gun."

"No, your mistake was getting caught," he told her. Glancing back at the headstone, he asked, "Of course we can't have the Daily Prophet saying that the Minister of Magic drove her husband to suicide with her infidelity, can we? I guess protecting your reputation has the side effect that it protects his." He looked at her, his own voice growing cold, emotionless, "What do you want Minister?"

"I came by to pay my respects."

Harry brushed past her saying, "For what they're worth, which isn't much."

He reached halfway to the bodyguards before she caught up with him, grabbed his arm and spun him around. He was sure the slap was heard all the way to the road. "How dare you!?"

"How dare I what, Minister? How dare I see you for all the ugliness in you?"

"You will respect me!" she demanded.

Harry growled low and hot. "You destroyed your marriage, you drove your husband to commit suicide and you took up with a man who considers you beneath him." He smirked, and added, "In more ways than one. Not only did you destroy your own marriage, but mine as well. I respect the office of Minister of Magic. As for the person holding it, I have more contempt for her than I did for Fudge."

Yanking his arm free, he strode past the two bodyguards. "Potter, clear out your desk."

"Already done, Minister. I guess the paperwork hasn't reached you yet."

With that, he walked away. He walked away from the cemetery. He walked away from Godrick's Hollow, from Hogwarts, from Surrey, from the Burrow. He walked to Heathrow, and to a flight to America where a new job awaited him.

Currently

"This is your new training partner, Sandor Karnstein," Coordinator Meinster introduced the dark-haired man standing across from him said. "Sandor, meet Harry Potter. He's joined us from England."

"Another one of your exchange programs, Ed?" the man asked looking at Harry and offering his hand.

"Not at all," Coordinator Meinster said. "Harry is a full on hire. He spent years working for the Ministry of Magic in Britain as an auror, and decided to move here. He just finished his ALE classes at Salem and is a full on member of Department of Arcane Law Enforcement."

"Nice to meet you," Harry shook the other man's hand. He appeared to be in his mid twenties with a head full of raven hair and piercing blue eyes. Harry detected a slight German accent to his voice, and found the handshake to be firm, if a bit on the strong side.

"My pleasure," Karnstein said. "Welcome to DALE." He stopped and said, "If memory serves, there was some kind of kerfluffle among the wand-wavers in England several years ago. There was mention of a Harry Potter then."

Harry tried to hide the look of surprise on his face. "Wand-wavers? And it was the Second Wizard's War."

Coordinator Meinster stepped in and said, "You'll have to forgive Sandor. He hasn't managed to yet scour away some old-world attitudes. Some people still refer to your particular set of wizards as wand-wavers. Although technically correct, it's a bit of a non-PC term."

"My sect of wizards?" Harry asked confused.

"Those that use a focus, like a wand," Meinster said.

Karnstein looked embarrassed, "No insult was meant." Harry briefly wondered if this was how Hermione felt the first time she heard the term mud-blood. But then remembering what she'd done, he decided to be the better man and crushed the thought before saying, "None was taken. I wouldn't mind a bit more explanation, however."

"I'll tell you as you get settled in."

"Not going to have much time for that," Meinster said. "You've already got a case."

Karnstein gave their boss a hard look and said, "You're evil, Meinster."

"So my mother tells me," their boss replied. "But she loves me anyway."

Karnstein shook his head, clenched his fist and said, "If he wasn't a direct line descendant of Dracula and Frankenstein, I swear I would strangle him with his own entrails." Then turning to Harry, he said, "Come on. We might as well see what fresh hell Eve has for us."

Still confused at all the changes coming at him, Harry followed the man down the hall of the old Victorian Mansion that was the headquarters of DALE. He felt as overwhelmed as he had been his first day at school. "Eve?"

"Eve Stephens. She is our liason with DALE when we're in the field. She gives us our cases and takes care of our travel arrangements. She's a primal-witch."

"Primal witch?" Harry asked.

"Wandless magic." Sandor stopped and looked at Harry. "You've never heard of the primal witches and warlocks?"

"I've heard of them," Harry said. "I thought they were a myth, something to scare young wizards and witches with."

"Oh they're real alright. Rank right up their with genies in power too, probably more so as they don't need a master. Eve's cool, though. She's a bit capricious however, so it's best to stay on her good side." He opened a large oaken door to reveal a well-lit room—using muggle electricity no less—and a massive oak table. A large glass sphere sat on the table. A young woman in her early twenties had two folders in her hand and stood at the head of the table. "Sandor, so good of you to join me." She looked at Harry and smiled before saying, "You must be Mr. Potter. Don't let this rake teach you any of his bad habits."

"Bad habits? Moi?" Sandor protested.

"The worst," the young woman said winking at Harry and offering her hand. "I'm Eve Stephens."

"Uh, it's my pleasure," he said taking the woman's hand. Again, he found it to be warm and strong, but not overly friendly. She was thin, very attractive and had a head full of blonde hair, and blue eyes. Her defining feature was her cute, slightly upturned button nose.

"What's our case, Eve?" Sandor asked sitting down as Eve handed them both a case file.

"Definite attempted murder, possible mortal murder in the past, and one hell of a family court battle in the mortal courts."

"And the DALE connection?" Sandor pressed.

"The mother tried to poison her son with aconite."

"Okay, what brings us in on it?"

"The dosage was so lethal that two of the mortal emergency medical technicians were killed by merely breathing the air in the room."

"And this is only an attempted murder?"

"Son recovered," Eve told her.

"So he's not a werewolf?"

"Not as far as we know."

"But enough aconite that would kill, a mortal (?) just walking into the room, didn't kill the boy?" Harry asked.

"You have a quick mind, Potter. I like that."

Sandor shrugged and said, "I'm unaffected by the stuff, so I sometimes forget that mortals are, or how deadly it is." Harry made a mental note to ask about the term mortal when he got Sandor alone.

"Please fill us in," Harry said.

The glass sphere in the middle of the table glowed and the image of a young man appeared. He was in his early to mid teens, about the same age as James, and had almost silver gray eyes and ash blond hair. He was definitely on the thin side, and Harry recognized the signs of being malnourished from first hand experience. "His name is Riven York, and he was a sophomore at Baldwin County High School near Mobile. Straight A student and promising quarterback."

"Quarterback?" Harry asked.

"That one you can be forgiven for not knowing," Sandor said. "American football. The player who controls the ball at the beginning of a play."

"He's not part of the wizar...uh... arcana world?"

"Evidently not," Sandor said. "We don't separate ourselves from the mortals as much as you British wizards do. And since he had no idea he was different..."

"We still don't," Eve interjected.

"I think that's understood, now," Harry said. "Nobody survives that kind of aconite poisoning."

"Well," Eve continued with a grin, "He had no idea that he was different. We don't know if his mother is arcana or not. We do know that his father is, but he wasn't in the picture until recently."

"What do you mean not in the picture?" Harry asked.

"It's in the file," Eve said. "But simply put, his father was driven from the home by the family courts. He's paid his child support diligently, and kept the boy covered in insurance. He even gave up the family home. But his mother kept using the courts to keep him away from the boy, going as far as to suggest and abusive relationship." The scenario sounded painfully familiar to his and Ron's situation. It was painful how he had not seen his children in nearly two years since the divorce. Ginny always had something else to do that weekend, and taking her to court to get his visitation meant he had to pay her legal fees.

"I understand," he said quietly.

"What's this about the murder of a mug...mortal?"

"From the interviews with the boy, we have reason to believe the mother was abusive, physically so. He said that he once tried to get help from his junior high school counselor, but the man ended up ripped to shreds in the bayous of South Alabama. The official sheriff's report said bear attack."

"And we're not so sure, now?" Harry asked.

"Exactly.

"You said the father's part of the arcanum?" Harry asked.

"He's Consilio Immortalem," Eve said.

"That's the catch-all sect?" Harry asked trying to remember his Arcana Law Enforcement classes. "Not Bloodthrone, not Witch's Council, and not Moonmoot? I never really got a grasp on what they are."

"Catch-all is as good a term as any. They're usually descended from some mythological race or species, or have powers and abilities that don't fit into any actual category. I believe he's registered as an ESPer of considerable power."

"Strange that he wasn't able to use that to affect the mortal courts," Sandor said.

"Is that allowed?" Harry asked.

"Not really, but it's not unheard of," Eve replied.

"So basically, he got creamed for playing by the rules?" Harry asked bitterly.

"Pretty much."

"So what are we to do?"

"First is to find the mother, and bring her in. She's dangerous and has killed at least two mortals," Eve said. "Secondly, and this is a matter of some delicacy, find out where the boy fits on the arcana chart."

"And if his mother is still wanting to kill him?" Sandor asked.

"You are sanctioned for lethal force in defense of the boy. But we want to find out what's going on here first." She looked at Sandor and said, "We'd rather not have too many bodies, Karnstein."

"Who me?"

"You do have a certain reputation," Eve replied.

"You wound me," Sandor told her mockingly.

"Not yet I haven't," Eve replied. Then turning to Harry, she said, "By the way, welcome aboard. I hate that you get saddled with this guy, but he's among our best. He's just not, ..."

"Politically expedient?" Sandor offered.

"I was going to say, "as polished as we would like", but that will do."

Sandor asked, "When do we leave?"

"Wheels up in two hours."

"Wheels up?" Harry asked.

"Airplane. We try to function as much inside mortal society as we can."

Harry nodded wondering exactly what he'd gotten himself into.