Chapter 2

Harry glances over at Mycroft. The man's umbrella stays loyally by his side, and Harry has to wonder if it's anything like Hagrid's. He sure hopes not, because Mycroft, Harry knows, is a muggle. A very powerful muggle with a lot of wizarding connections, but a muggle none-the-less. But then, Harry wonders, if he does have such powerful connections, could it be charmed to cast certain spells so a muggle could use it? That would have to mean Mycroft has connections to, most likely, the Department of Mysteries, and Harry doesn't believe his connections went that far. Perhaps he had gotten it by means that were not quite legal. Harry grimaces at the thought.

"Ask."

"What?" Harry's head shoots up, as he looks at Mycroft in wild confusion. Had Harry been talking out loud?

"You have a question. Ask it," Mycroft states, his eyes still looking forward as they continue to walk down the street and away from Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry pulls at his shirt sleeve. Is he that obvious that Mycroft could tell without even looking at him? If he can tell that, Mycroft must be able to tell that Harry knows next to nothing about anything. Which was hardly a surprise from anyone who actually knows and talks to Harry on a frequent basis, but Harry has only met Mycroft once before now.

Harry's thoughts stop in their track when he suddenly realizes no one is walking beside him. "Uhm, Mycroft…? Mr. Holmes?"

"Harry," Mycroft's voice calls out from behind him. Harry turns around expecting an angry glare from the older man, but he surprisingly only receives a tight smile and a hidden look of…amusement in Mycroft's eyes. Harry's mouth lays slightly agape as he notices an arm sweeping in gesture to get in the black car that Harry just now realizes is there. Hesitantly, he walks toward the car for a few paces before coming to a mental halt. Shaking himself, Harry pulls his shoulders back and walks with conviction, as if he has done nothing wrong and needs everyone to know it, to the awaiting heated leather seats.

Harry slides in and Mycroft shuts the door for him. Fifteen seconds later the door on the other side of the car opens, and Mycroft slides in next to him. The car starts moving, and it's silent for a few moments before Mycroft says, "Harry, meet Anthea. She is my assistant."

He catches Harry's eye and points her out in the passenger seat of the car. Her phone… Blackberry, if Harry can tell correctly, is lit up, and her fingers move a mile a minute. Harry's eyebrows crunch with confusion on how someone can possibly text that quickly.

"There is a reason why she is my assistant. She's good at what she does," Mycroft noticed his staring.

"I can see that."

"Yes… I suppose you can. Now. As this is our first day together, we will be doing a few things. First, we will be going over rules and expectations. Then, I will be introducing you to a few people with whom we will work closely with for the next few weeks to get you ready for the real preparation of war. And the war itself, of course," Mycroft tells him, smiling seemingly without a care in the world.

"Of course," Harry responds sarcastically. Mycroft made it seem like everything they were doing was the simplest thing in the world, and they needed not pay much attention to it.

"I'm glad you agree," Mycroft exclaims mildly. Harry snorts, because this conversation is ridiculous. Anyone could see that it is just the two dancing around each other, trying to gauge the other person's personality and reactions. And, of course, not wanting to talk about the elephant in the room. Silence laps again, but this time it is more of a comfortable silence. Harry is finally able to relax and lean back against the seat. The tension is gone from his shoulders, and there's a small smile on his face. Harry turns to regard Mycroft.

"What if I hadn't?"

"Agreed?"

"Yes."

"Well," Mycroft ponders, his fingertips tapping the handle of his umbrella. Harry's eyes follow before going back up to the man's face. "I would imagine that you know the answer to that. Do you not?"

"No, I do," Harry tells him regretfully. He doesn't really want to know, but within his heart Harry knows he does but just doesn't want to admit it. Harry bites his lip and stares thoughtfully at the seat in front of him.

"Don't bite your lip. It's in bad taste, nor does it keep you looking confident and professional," Mycroft says, and he immediately stops.

Harry is silent for the rest of the ride.

When the car finally stops, after two long hours, Harry is relieved to get out of the car. His face lights up with joy as his feet stand on firm ground once again. Harry had never been in a car for that long, and he wasn't sure he'd be getting used to it anytime soon. He sticks his hands in his pockets and walks over to Mycroft who is looking at the building they stopped in front of with disguised apprehension and maybe a little disgust.

Mycroft looks over at Harry and takes a deep breath. He gestures Harry to the door—a black, old fashioned thing with 221 bolted on it in brass. Harry knocks on the door. Mycroft hurriedly goes to stop him, causing Harry to jump in surprise.

"No, don't knock, you'll bother—" Mycroft exclaims, but the door is already opening. "Mrs. Hudson," he finishes lamely. Mrs. Hudson's face seems astonished but not bothered.

"Mycroft, dear, what a surprise! And who is this young man?" she tones out, and in a lower voice, she asks, "Is he your boyfriend?"

Both Mycroft and Harry's eyes pop open at her words. "N-no, Mrs. Hudson. I'm fifteen!"

"Oh, no worries, dear. Mycroft here is only thirty. There is no reason why you couldn't be together. My husband and I were twelve years apart, and we had met when I was seventeen."

"Mrs. Hudson—Mrs. Hudson, that's illegal!" Harry cries earnestly.

"Is it?" she asks, looking at Harry with an innocent expression on her face. "Well, no one has to know, do they?" she winks. "Do come in! Would you like some tea?" Mrs. Hudson pulls the door wider and steps back to allow more space for them to go through.

Harry is about to open his mouth to reply, when he suddenly hears Mycroft's voice say, "No, thank you, Mrs. Hudson. Harry and I would like to talk alone upstairs while we wait for Sherlock and John to return."

"Of course, no problem, dears. You just go on up," she smiles at them.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson." Mycroft sidesteps Harry and walks all the way up the stairs before Harry even begins to follow. Before he can get very far, a feminine hand grips his wrist.

"He's a keeper that Mycroft is. What did you say your name was again?"

Harry turns his head to look at her intently, but with a kind smile on his face. "I'll keep that in mind, thanks, Mrs. Hudson. And my name is Harry."

"Just Harry?" she questions kindheartedly.

Harry has a quick debate in his head on whether or not to say his last name to people. He believes he shouldn't, so he answers, "Just Harry."

"Well, 'just Harry', go on up. Don't keep him waiting. He's very impatient," Mrs. Hudson tuts at Harry with a knowing grin.

"Of course not. Thank you, Mrs. Hudson." She releases her grip on his wrist. Harry turns back around and heads up the stairs and through the door. Immediately upon entering, Harry spots Mycroft sprawled across an old living room chair, acting as if he owned the place.

The corner of his mouth quirks up into a smirk, and he stares at Mycroft. "A bit presumptuous of you, isn't it?"

"Of course not." Harry doesn't ignore that fact he offers no further explanation. Then again, Mycroft is practically the British Government, so he probably has his reasons, Harry figures. "Sit."

Harry sits. "I feel as if, while we are waiting, we should talk about rules and expectations. Do you agree?"

"I do. Where do we start?"

"Let's start with our relationship with each other. We are not equals. You are subordinate to me, right now. This can and probably will change over the course of your training. Over time, I will begin to let you start making your own decisions about certain problems. If I see you understand how to go about certain situations rationally, I will let certain people go to you in lieu of me. My goal is to help you learn how to manage a war and a society. So that will happen here with my guidance. Soon we will split the part of 'the British Government.' Do you understand?" Mycroft states calmly and without blinking. It freaks Harry out a bit, not that he'd ever admit it.

"I understand what you said, but I don't understand why. Why do I have to learn to win a war and lead a society into success? I'm only fifteen. Shouldn't someone, I don't know, older do it? Like Dumbledore?" Harry's age suddenly becomes apparent in his naivety and anxiety of events to come. His hands twitch nervously, but he refrains from playing with his clothing or biting his lip.

Mycroft smiles at Harry with a small amount of empathy. He pauses before he finally speaks. "Harry," he says, "think about your government right now. Your Minister, Cornelius Fudge, just gave you a trial for defending yourself. Against a soul-sucking beast that wasn't supposed to be in your town to begin with, no less. Harry, your Ministry is in denial about Voldemort being back, and because your Ministry doesn't believe it, the people won't believe it either until a) the Ministry comes to their senses and believes you, or b) they see proof for themselves. Your society is corrupt.

"Furthermore, you are one of the biggest figureheads in the war right now, whether you like it or not. When the people come to their senses, you will have a very large voice within your society. And you will continue to have a large say in it, even when Ministers come and go."

"So?" Harry interrupts, a slight disgruntled. Mycroft smiles tightly and goes on as if Harry had never interrupted.

"Because of this, you already will be respected. You may not always be on the front lines of your government, but every decision that will ever be made will eventually go through you before they become official. That's why you have to learn how to lead a society. You need to learn how to win a war because you one of the main figureheads. People are counting on you already, and they will listen to you, Harry. You're a natural leader. From what I've heard, you're plans are awful, but your on-the-spot plans are very good. You know how to survive. You know how to keep a cool head in unplanned fights, how to have the least number of casualties on your side, but most importantly, you're not afraid to get done what needs to be done."

Harry sits on this for a moment as Mycroft stares intently at Harry. Harry heaves a deep sigh. Maybe the man is right? Harry doesn't know. It seems like, to him, that everyone always treats him as if he is a small child, incapable of understand the slightest hardship of war. But Harry had battled Voldemort by himself last year and lived! Cedric had become a casualty, but it was unplanned and so sudden that Harry hadn't been able to do anything. Thinking of Cedric makes Harry feel wretched, but he quickly covers it up.

"So why can't Dumbledore do this? He is all of those things, too," he asks suddenly, staring directly into Mycroft's eyes without looking away.

Mycroft frowns faintly, and his frown lines become more prominent "I think…I'll let you find that one out for yourself. I believe it will do you some good. It needs to be you, Harry, which is why you're here."

Harry only jerks his head sharply, running a hand through his hair in response. "Okay, what else?"

Mycroft lets Harry know that he will need him often, if he wants to gain anything of experience. By often, Mycroft means at least five days a week, starting at seven in the morning and returning at approximately eleven at night. Sometimes, he will not return for days, nor sometimes will he sleep for days at a time. Little to no information is to be given out among his people, including his best friends. The same as Dumbledore, the information he will give out is on a need-to-know basis.

"And Harry?" Mycroft asks softly.

"Yes?" Harry answers tiredly.

"Try your best to separate this from your social life. 'Hang out' with your friends and family. Date. Do well in school when you do go back. Just because you need to do this, doesn't mean you need to become it."

At these words, Harry smiles hesitantly at Mycroft. He had been worried about that. Harry had been worried he'd have to ignore his friends and family and the Order. He wants to be some semblance of a normal teenager.

"I will. Thanks, Mycroft."

"Here." Mycroft reaches across to Harry and hands him a black mobile. "For when you or I need to contact each other or when others need to contact you."

Harry is about to refuse the mobile, but rationally the mobile makes sense, so Harry just grins widely at the British Government and thanks him enthusiastically.

"I think this is about to be the start of a beautiful friendship," Harry winks teasingly at Mycroft, he counts it as a win when the man snorts in amusement, making Harry grin slightly wider.

"Mycroft having friends? Well, that's hardly possible."