Thingamabobs

by HighSidhe

This is where the half-baked ideas that I've lost interest in but would still like to see written will go. If you decide to use anything, please send me the link so that I can read it.

2. Chapter 2

"I am so sorry, Mrs. Potter." The sad voice cut throat the fog of pain clouding her mind. Lily did not look so different from any other mother who had just given birth. Her appearance was frazzled and her tired green eyes couldn't seem to focus on anything.

"What's wrong?" Her beloved husband asked sharply. He had extracted his hand from Lily's and was rubbing feeling back in it as he stared worriedly at the Healer.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but your son - he didn't make it." James sat down heavily and reached over almost thoughtlessly to squeeze her should comfortingly. "His umbilical cord was wrapped around his throat." The woman explained sorrowfully to the young couple.

As the words finally penetrated her brain, Lily let out a gut-wrenching scream of denial. The Helaer bustled around the room, gathering her things and cleaning up. She had willingly agreed to have her memory removed of this event, since the Potter's had planned to go into hiding shortly afterwards. Finally, he seemed to notice her and followed her out of the room and down the stairs to the ground floor.

"Thank you for your help." James said as he raised his wand. A moment later, she was blinking up at him. "You were a great Healer." She nodded hesitantly before walking unsteadily to the fireplace and flooing out.

James went back upstairs to keep his wife company. She was exhausted and dozing fitfully. He settled down in the chair beside her bed and sighed. "What do we do now?" He murmured quietly to himself. "Albus is expecting word of the child." It was finally hitting home that they had lost their first child. He knew that Lily would be hit harder by the news when she was awakened, but he couldn't help but feel sorrow as well.

Just as he was dozing off in the chair, something made the hair on the back of his head stand up. "Ledo!" He called urgently. A moment later, the house elf popped into existence.

"What can Ledo do for Master James?" Ledo asked as he shifted from foot to foot.

"Keep an eye on Lily, please. I'm going to go check something out."

Gripping his wand, he slowly went downstairs, prepared for an attack that never came. He would not have been surprised if Lord Voldemort had decided to attack the young couple while they were at their weakest. Finally, he slid out the door.

James spotted a small blanket lying on his porch, a blanket that was wriggling slightly and gurgling. Cautiously he flipped the blanket up and stared in surprise at the infant lying there waving his arms and legs around. He looked rather annoyed, as strange as it seemed.

"What on earth? How did you get here?" He mused as he carefully picked the squirming baby up.

The baby gurgled, which translated in baby talk to 'I was in the midst of a brutal war on the planet Gallifrey with Daleks when something brought me to this miserable planet'. Of course, James wasn't fluent in baby-talk in the slightest, so he completely missed that.

"Well, I should get you inside at the very least." He observed as he brought the little tyke inside. "I wonder who left you there. That's a rather shitty thing to do, abandon a baby on someone's doorstep. Whoever did that should be hexed." He was careful not to get angry at the thought of someone abandoning a baby on his doorstep. When Lily had announced her pregnancy, his parents had sat them down an explained the facts of life for parenthood, and magical babies were more in tune to their parents emotions, which was a rather dangerous thing since they remained connected to their mother's magical core for around three years before it withered away. While this little tyke may or may not have been magical, he had taken the lessons to heart and was careful to keep his emotions in check.

James carried the baby upstairs and into Lily's room. The baby didn't seem overly concerned about much of anything, and promptly rolled over and went to sleep when he laid him down beside of Lily. It was moments like these when he was rather glad that his wife wasn't much of a mover once she fell asleep.

"For now, you'll stay here." James mused to himself as he ran his fingers through thin tufts of dark brown hair. "We'll decide what to do with you once Lily is stronger."

He woke up to an unusual sight. James had expected surprise, possibly accusations about trying to replace their son, but instead he woke to find her breast-feeding the baby he had found on the doorstep. She had a slight frown on her face.

"Where did you find him?" She asked as she shifted him slightly in her arms.

"Outside on the porch, oddly enough." He said as he stretched and began working all the kinks out of his spine. "Some arsehole left him there."

"We should at the least take him to get checked over at St. Mungo's." She mused as she lovingly stroked his soft hair. "Did you have anything in mind for what to do with him?"

"I was thinking we could, I dunno, keep him?" James said nervously.

She was silent for a moment, thinking. "We'll have to let Professor Dumbledore know, of course." She said. "I don't want to let him go, though, so I guess we'll adopt him then."

"I was going to wait until you were strong enough to be about and about before we took him to St. Mungo's." James remarked.

"I'll be fine after I take a Pepper-Up potion." She waved his concerns away.

"Lily-flower, I can't let you do that. You're not supposed to take potions for until you stop breast-feeding." James said firmly as he settled down next to her. "You'll have to get better the muggle way."

"Damn."

"Language, Lily."

He called Dumbledore later that day, and the Headmaster came in through the fireplace. "How did the birth go?" Albus asked as he brushed soot off of his pristine navy blue robes.

"We lost the baby." James said as he poured two glasses of firewhiskey.

"I am so sorry, James."

James smiled sadly. "Someone did abandon a baby on our doorstep though."

Albus hid the calculating look. This was too much of a coincidence for him to ignore. "Perhaps he is the child of the prophecy."

"I don't think so, he's not a newborn. Lily says he's at least four months old." James countered.

"Are you going to adopt him?" Albus asked as he peered over his half-moon glasses with a knowing look.

"Yeah, I think so."

"Then technically he did get born yesterday." Albus pointed out. "As a Potter at least."

James looked thoughtful, and more than a bit unhappy. "I was hoping to avoid all that prophecy nonsense." He muttered disparagingly.

"I am so sorry, James. But if you do adopt him, you'll need to go into hiding." Albus told him quietly.

The Master was not having a good day. Firstly, he had no idea how he had ended up on this planet. The last thing he remembered was being on Gallifrey, watching as his world was burned by Daleks and unable to do a thing about it, and then nothing.

He had woken up lying under a red blanket that he remembered as having had when he had been the President's prisoner. He had laid there musing to himself and trying to figure out what on Gallifrey was going on when the blanket had disappeared. The Master had found himself face to face with a disgustingly human person who seemed to like muttering to himself.

He hadn't realized how tired he was until the man had laid him next to a female and he had promptly passed out much to his disgust. Regenerating took a lot out of a time lord, and he was unfortunately still stuck with those infernal drumbeats, although they had been removed after he'd found himself in the timelock. The Master supposed that he'd had them for so long that his mind was causing him to hear them regardless of whether they were still there.

That wasn't the most awkward bit however. No, that went to breast-feeding. The Master had a very adult mind trapped in an infant's body. He knew how creepy it sounded for an adult to be doing this. What made it even more awkward was the fact that he had no interest in her sexually at all, so he really didn't want to be anywhere near her breasts for any reason at all. Unfortunately, his infant body was disgustingly weak and required sustenance in the form of milk. He vowed to wean himself off of the liquid as soon as possible and then locate Harkness and steal his entire supply of retcon.

Their discussion of whether to keep him or not was rather pointless since the Master had decided that these two would be in charge of his welfare until he was old enough to take care of himself. If they didn't like that, they would learn to deal with it.

He realized something very important when the elderly human picked him up and frowned slightly. Humans didn't have two hearts. Damn, he was going to have to fix that. With a grumble to himself, he closed his eyes and concentrated. If he had had his old body, this wouldn't be a problem because he had had complete control of it. Stopping a heart had been child's play. Now it looked like he would have to relearn that since he was having difficulty getting his left heart to stop beating.

"Have you named him yet?"

"Harold James Potter." The red-headed woman called Lily replied.

'Harold' would have rolled his eyes at that, but that was suspiciously unbaby-like behaviour, and he was trying to hide to some extent.

The trip to St. Mungo's three days later was quick and efficient. "Well, everything seems to be in working order." The young man examining him said. The Master had since learned that these people had 'magic', which he thought hilarious. "He's a healthy baby boy. I will note, however, that he seems to be a squib or a muggle. I can't say for sure which not knowing who his parents are."

Muggle indeed, he thought disdainfully. He could read the man's mind with no trouble at all, and the fool was apparently feeling sorry for him because he couldn't use magic.

"I guess he won't be going to Hogwarts then."

What the hell was a Hogwarts?

"Probably not." He agreed.

The Potters were a kind loving parents and he soon met their friends Sirius, Remus, and Peter. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Peter was hiding something, not to someone like the Master who manipulated people on a large scale. He was the weasely type, always willing to serve the stronger master. What a shame he was serving the wrong master.

Harry was not impressed with this Voldemort fellow. He was bent on eradicating the muggles and takin over the world, and all that other fun stuff that megalomaniacs liked to do. Unfortunately, he wasn't looking at this long-term, which was quite obvious to someone who had not only taken over the world, but had actually rules it for a time. Eradicating the muggles, as they called them, was going to be impossible since he didn't have the resources to counteract and enslave them. The moron didn't know that was a problem either. Apparently they had never heard the saying 'know thine enemy'.

It was safe to say that the Daleks would be serving tea to the Queen of England before the Master joined Voldemort.

For some reason, everyone seemed worried about Voldemort. Harry couldn't figure out why.

The months passed quickly and soon it was Halloween. Harry was nervous. Something was going to happen tonight; he could sense it. It made his skin tingle and his hair stand on end.

Showtime.

---

The Master is the one of the prophecy, not that he's going to be overly concerned about a trivial thing like that. At any rate, he's a 'squib' and I had intended him to maintain squib status. At some point, the Doctor would have shown up, either as a student, a teacher, or in some other capacity. Because the Master is no longer Simm!Master, his personality has changed. I envision a more subtle evil overlord type who is more like Tom Riddle in his early days.

---

Dr. Jonathan Crane glanced up from the file that he was busy writing in as he heard the door to his office open. He quickly plastered on a fake smile and stood up to greet his guest. He did have to follow propriety with guests, as much as he hated playing nice. A man entered with long albeit balding dark hair. He was clearly nervous about this. Dr. Crane stifled a sneer as they shook hands. "I'm Pius Thicknesse, Director and Head of Azkaban Mental Correction Institute."

"Dr. Jonathan Crane, Head Doctor of Arkham Asylum." Dr. Crane answered. "Shall we get started then?"

"Indeed. I am here about the transferral of one of our patients here." Pius' hand was shaking slightly as he withdrew a folder from within the briefcase he had brought in with him. "He's...a mess."

Dr. Crane flipped open and began to skim over it, not having the time to read the thick stack of papers held within. "Has he been diagnosed with these, or are these merely conjecture?" He asked off-handedly as he flipped the page over.

"Our Head Doctor, Lucius Malfoy, has been unable to get enough out of him to really diagnose him with anything. Once he decides that he doesn't like you, he won't talk at all unless it's to shout butchered Latin words." Dr. Crane nodded, tamping down on the glee he could feel at the prospect of getting this patient.

"This includes his entire history?" Jonathan pressed as he glanced up.

"As much as we've been able to get out of him." Pius admitted with a wry smile.

"Would you care to give me an abridged version?" He pushed his glasses further up his nose as he stared at the other man with a calculating gaze.

"Ah, of course. It may take awhile, however."

Jonathan nodded towards the clock. "I'll warn you when we need to wrap things up." He answered with a small smile.

Pius nodded and cleared his throat. "About two decades ago, there was a serial killer, called himself Voldemort, or Lord Voldemort. He specialized in poisons and gases for his victims. One of his chosen victims was Harry Potter; his parents were collateral damage. For whatever reason, Harry proved immune to the gases that were pumped into his home through the air conditioning, while his parents were killed by it. No one knows where he got the scar from, although we suspect that it's so Lord Voldemort could come back to finish the job, since he was caught at their home and sent to a high security prison.

"His aunt and uncle took him in, although the gas did seem to have adversely affected him, since he was prone to strange behavior. Such as living under a cupboard and only eating when he was actively told to."

"Abuse?"

"None. He's a bit on the skinny side, and his aunt did admit to forgetting about him frequently since he was such a quiet child and tried not to bring attention to himself. His aunt and uncle apparently allowed him to continue his strange behavior for awhile. It was only when he started claiming to find letters that no one else could see that they realized that there might be a problem.

"He was already having delusions, even as an eleven-year old. Delusions of magic. Unfortunately, he is something of a people magnet and managed to convince most of the students at Hogwarts, our school for teenaged miscreants and troublemakers, to play along with him."

"Do the other children share this delusion, or were they playing along?"

"There was one student, Luna Lovegood, that we think may actually believe the fantasy that he has woven. Most do not, however." Pius answered. "At any rate, this serial killer managed to escape after Harry's fourth year with us and kidnapped him. Harry managed to escape, but in the process got another student killed."

"Does he suffer from Post-Traumatic?" Jonathan asked as he leaned over his desk.

"Yes. Like you wouldn't believe."

"During his fifth year, he managed to convince four other students to come with him and break into Azkaban, for what we never learned. None of them were seriously harmed, thank god, but he managed to get someone killed again, a Sirius Black, who was a patient of ours at Azkaban and managed to escape. During his seventh, the Headmaster of Hogwarts died; he was going senile and accidentally walked off the Astronomy Tower. Harry was the one who found his body; what he was doing outside at eleven after dark I don't know. There was also a massive break out at Azkaban, which Harry blamed on Voldemort. He did not return for a seventh year, instead opting for doing a bit of vigilante work."

Jonathan winced slightly as he thought of the mysterious Batman which had been all over the news over the last week.

"He and his friends killed sixty-nine patients, doctors, and security guards of Azkaban as well as three of the orderlies. He was immediately arrested and sentenced to life in Azkaban. Unfortunately, he has already proven that he can break out if he really wants to as we've had to track him down twice in the five years that he's been with us. Each time he's escaped, a significant number of people, so called death eaters, have died."

Jonathan leaned back with a pensive look on his face. "Interesting." He mused to himself. Abruptly he sat up and was business-like again. "Very well; I shall have a look over these. I'll be wanting to meet him, of course."

Pius nodded. "I suspected as much. We can fly you over to the Institute, if you like. We're not shipping him over for a meeting, however."

Jonathan could understand their reluctance on that, if the file was anything to go by. Still, he was annoyed about having to leave his experiments and projects for any amount of time. However, he was quite determined to add this teenager to his collection of misfits, so he would be willing to leave for a few days if it meant adding the teen to his roster. "I'll let you know, probably within a couple of days, whether I'm interested in the case." They both knew he was interested, but he had to be careful to keep the other man in the dark as to his true intentions towards the young man.

Pius left soon after and Jonathan began to read through the file in earnest this time.

A week later, he was on a plane to Scotland to meet Harry Potter.

-0-0-0-0-

"Move it, Potter." Harry glared at the guard behind him, but did as he was told. A thin gold band around his wrist prevented him from retaliating magically. "Some high and mighty doctor wants you, although I can't imagine why."

Harry snorted. "I'm Harry bloody Potter. Why wouldn't he want me?" He asked with a trace of bitterness.

"Because you're a scrawny young man with nothing special about you in the slightest." The man sneered as he gave him a shove. "Now shut up and walk. Best not to keep the nice man waiting."

Harry rolled his eyes, but he was nervous all the same; curiosity was a deciding factor as well. Why was the Ministry of Magic sending him to a muggle mental institute? Granted, he probably needed the counseling with all the Death Eaters he'd killed, but why an asylum for the criminally insane? And why muggles?

He was led into a small room where a young man with lightly gelled dark brown hair and glasses was perusing several sheets of paper all at once. Harry forced his heart to slow down as he hesitantly sat down across from the doctor.

"Ab, Harry Potter isn't it?" Harry cocked an eyebrow at him.

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't. They're stupid but not that stupid." He pointed out dryly.

Jonathan ignored that. "This is a screening, I'll be testing you to see if you would fit in at Arkham Asylum." Jonathan said as he pushed his glasses up his nose and stared at the young man.

"Oh goody." Harry didn't sound thrilled at all. "Do they employ nutters as security guards at Arkham."

"No; all of our employees are carefully screened." Not carefully enough, he was the Head Doctor, after all.

"Good for them. Guess I'll find out for myself when I get shipped over."

"If."

"When." Harry corrected sharply. "They've already fed you the tripe about magic."

Jonathan's eyebrows rose at that. Harry sounded almost annoyed at that. "So it's not true then, your belief in magic?" He asked politely.

Harry's lips twisted into a mockery of a smile. "It's more of a damned if I do and damned if I don't, actually." He replied as he scratched his wrist absent-mindedly. "If I admit to believing in magic, you'll have me across the pond surrounded by criminal nutjobs. If I don't then it's my word against theirs, and prisoners have been known to lie through their teeth to avoid jailtime."

"How very astute of you." Jonathan admitted after a moment. In the long run, it really didn't matter; Harry Potter was too interesting to pass up.

"So, can we get this over with? These handcuffs are making my wrists itch." Harry looked at him plaintively.

---

Short, I know, but this one was intended to be something where you're never quite sure if magic is a figment of his imagination or not.

---

Harry glanced around him, taking in the darkened theatre that was starting to fill up. He wasn't just here for the show; he had a meeting with the star of the show afterwards to discuss the terms of his contract. For now, however, he intended to sit back and relax for the length of the show about vampires and demons. Most of it was probably inaccurate, but he wasn't too picky about it. It wasn't like many of these people had ever encountered vampires before. Still, it should be interesting.

Harry took the time to look around him. This was one of the better shows one could catch in Las Vegas and tickets were a bit pricey, not that Harry had had any trouble affording it. He could have afforded every ticket here without putting too much of a dent in his money.

Being a bodyguard was good for money. Being a damn good bodyguard was better. Harry was a damn good bodyguard. While his parents had left him enough money to leave him reasonably well off, Harry tried not to depend upon it too much. Sirius hadn't left him much in the way of money; serving a Dark Lord was expensive apparently and his family has served many.

His attention snapped to the stage as the curtains started to rise. The next hour and a half were a blur as Harry watched the show, marveling at some of the stunts they had managed to pull off even though they were muggles. He knew there were lines holding her up, but he couldn't see them and catching her on fire was quite good.

When the show finally ended, Harry stood up with everyone else and clapped. As the curtain fell, he began weaving his way towards the side door. Quietly slipping through, he walked to the back room where the celebrity was undoubtedly unwinding. Slipping by Peter Vincent's security guards proved to him that the man really needed a good bodyguard since they were next to useless at protecting him. Harry hadn't even used magic to slip by them.

"-was fuckin' horrible." His future boss groused as he sipped his drink.

"It wasn't that bad." The woman leaning against the wall said. Harry could tell her heart wasn't in it. She was every guy's dream girl with a gorgeous body and an alluring accent.

"What the fuck are you talking about? Lacey couldn't even get a proper scream out! She sounded like she lost a fuckin' nail, not like she was about to lose her soul!"

"She's new, give her a break." The woman sighed.

Peter snorted and hopped to his feet and headed over to the mini-bar that was set up in the corner. He poured himself a rather generous amount of something green, and that was after taking a long swallow from the bottle. Harry snuck a glance over at the woman and noted the slightly annoyed expression.

Peter turned and froze as he finally noticed that they were not alone. "Who the fuck are you?" He asked harshly. "And what the fuck are you doing back here?"

"Harry Potter." Harry answered with a raised eyebrow, as if this should have been obvious. "And I am proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that you need a bodyguard." He answered with a wry smile. He jerked his thumb towards the door. "You should fire your guards."

Peter narrowed his eyes and looked over from head to toe, taking in the pressed charcoal grey suit. "You're awfully young." He observed as he settled back to his chair.

"The art of misdirection." Harry replied as he took his sunglasses off and tucked them into his pocket. "I don't look intimidating, so people tend to overlook me and discount me as a threat." He didn't sound overly thrilled about that.

Despite the advantage, Harry sometimes wished that he was taller and could actually pack on some serious muscling. It was disheartening to be considered little more than a teenager when he was in his upper twenties. Unfortunately, the neglect he had sustained from the Dursley's had made him rather short, clocking in at five foot seven, and a rather skinny frame, although he no longer had a malnourished look. Still, people took him for a teenager more often than not and that annoyed him greatly. He still had to show proof of age when he bought alcohol.

"So you're my new bodyguard." Peter began to remove his facial hair, peeling it off from where it had been glued on. In make-up, he made Harry think of a cross between Russell Brand and Jack Sparrow. Harry wished he could figure out why he looked so familiar, but he couldn't quite place him.

"I am for the next three years. After that," He shrugged. Harry liked to keep his initial contracts relatively short so that he didn't find himself stuck with someone he absolutely hated for a decade.

"That will do, I suppose." Peter grunted as he pulled his wig off.

Harry realized why he thought that Peter looked so familiar. He was almost the spitting image of Bartemius Crouch Junior, which was rather strange since Harry was sure that Barty was currently a soulless vegetable and definitely not doing shows in Las Vegas.

"Let's go!" Peter was on his feet.

Harry glanced at the woman. "Is he always like this?"

"Pretty much. Ginger, by the way." Ginger replied with a slight smirk. "You get used to it, or you get out."

Harry shrugged. "Does he get mobbed when he looks like that?"

She snorted as they walked towards the viper. "Of course not. The fans don't even recognize him." She climbed into the backseat next to Peter, and Harry climbed into the passenger seat. He would need to drop by his hotel at some point to pick up his things, especially his laptop. Then he would need to set up the security system.

"You'll be moving into my penthouse." Harry glanced into the mirror and noted the somewhat lecherous grin on his employers face. Lovely, his boss was a pervert. He wasn't the first pervert Harry had had to work for, although he was admittedly better-looking.

"I figured as much." Harry said dryly. "It's difficult to protect you when I'm somewhere else." They stopped briefly so that Harry could get his things from the hotel he was staying at.

"Spacious." Harry commented as he took in his new home. Peter had a thing for black, it seemed. He also seemed to like collecting weapons for vampire apocalypses. Harry resolved to have a better look at the collection once he was settled in.

The first thing Harry did was link his laptop to all of the security cameras. The second thing he did was set up several types of wards. While he wasn't a good enough warder to set up anything to keep anyone out, he could certainly set up wards to alert him when magical, supernatural, or mundanes entered the premises. He linked all of his wards to his ring, which would grow warm when someone entered and the stone would flash clear for mundanes, red for magical people, and blue for anything else. It was times like this when he wished that he still had Hermione as a friend. He had no doubt she would know how to set up repelling wards or detaining wards.

Unfortunately, like the rest of the wizarding world, she had decided to cut her losses. Harry had never understood why she of all people would turn against him. She had been his most loyal friend up until that point.

Once he had completed that, he set about unpacking the rest of his things.

"Still awake?" Ginger asked as she stepped in. Harry swallowed as he realized she was wearing very little.

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Shouldn't you-?" He gestured towards her. "I dunno, put clothes on?"

She snorted. "Why, it's where I live." She peered at him. "You're not a virgin are you?"

"Ahm, I don't think I'll answer that." Harry replied. He just knew that he was blushing.

She snickered at him as she settled into one of the chairs. "You won't be for long."

Harry sighed as he settled cross-legged in the center of his rather large bed. Now that he thought about it, it was rather strange that his bed was so large since he was just one person. He had a sudden worry that perhaps his employer was into threesomes.

"No it's not that, I just consider my sex life to be...private." Harry said awkwardly. He dallied a bit hear and there, but for the most part, he couldn't be bothered with relationships, and he was a bit leery with one-night stands. "So, why are you in here?"

"I'm getting to know you." Ginger answered with a raised eyebrow. "Somebody has to because Peter won't give a fuck about you."

Harry shrugged. Indifference was something he could handle. It was better than pretending to care and then stabbing him in the back like a certain red-head he knew. "I can live with that." He glanced at his computer screen and raised an eyebrow.

"Kinky." She said as she leaned over his shoulder. Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "You were watching weren't you."

Harry snickered before pulling up the half-finished game of solitaire he'd been working on. "Was not." He said dryly. "I figure if he dies during sex he'll probably have died the happiest man alive."

She snorted at that. "You're probably right." She smirked at him. "So you definitely weren't watching." She leaned over to brush a strand of black hair away from his startling green eyes. "Pity," She murmured in his ear. "I think he'd get off knowing you were watching him fuck me."

"No doubt." Harry said in a slightly strangled voice. He found himself remembering a man he'd met briefly in Cardiff who had been just as kinky. Perhaps he'd go pay him a visit at some point, take him up on the offer he'd made. Or not.

"Ginger!" A loud voice called from the sitting room. Ginger rolled her eyes and crawled off of the bed. Harry watched her go. Damn, his no fucking the boss rule was going to be very difficult to follow for this particular venture.

He turned in shortly afterwards. He was suffering from jet lag and was rather exhausted after all.

Sunglasses hid his eyes from view as Harry Potter stepped out of his car and locked it. He carried a large rectangular case in one hand as he strode towards the entrance of the building. He barely even glanced around as he entered the lobby and instead headed straight towards the receptionist who didn't appear to have noticed him.

"Good afternoon." He greeted pleasantly as he leaned against the counter and peered over her shoulder at the computer screen.

Her chair spun around upon hearing his soft tenored British accent. "Can I help you with something?" She asked as she eyed him up and down. He could understand the note of distrust in her voice. He didn't look like he worked here, wearing plain black jeans and a dark red t-shirt, and he looked much too young to be an enterprising businessman wanting to meet with Tony Stark.

"Yes, Harry Potter to see Mr. Stark. I believe I have an appointment?" He queried softly with a flirty grin. She was quite pretty with dark brown hair and wide innocent blue eyes. It was quite obvious, at least to him, that she hadn't been hired for her intelligence.

She seemed faintly flustered as she checked before nodding. "Top floor. I tell him you're on your way." She waved him in the direction of the elevator.

Harry nodded briefly before doing as she said and meandering towards the elevator. After punching the button, it was a good five minutes before it showed up. He waited patiently for everyone to disembark who was going to before stepping in himself.

He was careful in how he acted, leaning casually against the wall as it slowly glided upwards. It wouldn't do for his query to get suspicious, now would it. The elevator ride was simultaneously too short and too long. He was getting antsy, drumming his fingers on the wall of the elevator as he waited patiently. He ignored the many stops that it made as it slowly pushed towards the top.

Finally, he was at the top floor, and he was being greeted by Tony Stark. "Not quite what I was expecting." He observed as he took in Harry's appearance. He flashed a quick grin at him to show that he didn't mean anything by it.

Harry gave a one-shoulder shrug as he neatly folded up his sunglasses and slid them into his shirt pocket. "I live up to very few people's expectations." He said shortly. He ignored the quizzical look that Tony sent him. "Shall we get started then?" He asked making an obvious attempt at changing the subject.

"Right. This way sweet cheeks." Harry rolled his eyes and flushed slightly as he followed Tony through what he assumed was his penthouse. The flirting didn't bother him much, but he had appearances to keep up. "Alright, here's good as any, I suppose."

It was spacious and just perfect for what Harry had in mind. Setting the case flat on the floor, he unsnapped it and flipped it open. A long white table covered in memory foam was extracted and quickly set up. His last action was to cover it in a sheet. "Alright, I'll give you a couple of minutes to get out of your clothes. His cheeks were tinged red slightly as he practically ran out the door accompanied by Tony's chuckles.

Harry paced back and forth in the adjacent room as he calmed his pounding heart. If he pulled this off, it was going to be amongst his beat assassinations. Must were entirely too easy to pull off. Stark's had taken nearly two months of planning and intelligence gathering. In the end, masseuse was simply the easiest way of getting in apart from meeting him in a bar, but there was the slightest chance that Stark would consider him too much of a jailbait to risk, so this was really the easiest way. He was counting on Stark doing little more than flirting and teasing in an effort to throw him off his game. Of course, if he failed at this, than getting out of here would be nigh impossible, not that he was overly worried about that.

"Sweet cheeks, get your arse in here." Rolling his eyes, he acquiesced. His eye twitched slightly at the fact that Stark was just barely covered by the towel. Then again, from what Harry could see, he had a good body for flaunting, so he supposed that could be forgiven. It would be such a shame to kill him, but a contract was a contract.

"I do have a name, you know." His voice wavered slightly as he approached the genius.

"Yeah, but your face when I call you sweet cheeks, it's endearing." Harry just barely kelt from rolling his eyes.

"Please stop." Harry requested as he popped open the bottle of oil. He held the bottle over Tony's back. "This should get your attention."

"You've already got that." Tony pointed out.

Harry squeezed the bottle slightly. He would need to be quick about this. He wouldn't have much time to get out of here once he got this started, but hopefully it would be enough. Just as he was starting to flip the bottle over to pour a clear flesh-melting potion on Tony's back, an interruption came in the form of an assassin.

"Stark! Banner's gone green!" Clint came barreling in and skidded to a stop.

Tony groaned. "And I didn't cause it!" His voice had taken on a petulant tone. "Reschedule?" He sighed towards Harry, drawing Clint's attention to him for the first time. His eyes narrowed at Harry and noted the uncapped bottle.

"What are you doing here!" He demanded harshly.

"Masseuse." Harry answered crisply, dropping the slightly nervous tone he had been using for a more professional one.

"A masseuse assassin. More original than a bitch, I suppose." Clint had his gun trained on the young man.

"Assassin?" Their attention was drawn to Tony who had managed to don a pair of jeans while they weren't paying attention to him.

"Oh, I dunno. It's one of the best ways to die, in the middle of an afterglow." Harry answered at the same time with a lazy grin as he dropped the bottle to the floor.

"Cliched don't you think?" Clint said ignoring Harry.

"Cliches are underrated." Harry said dismissively as he held his hands up where everyone could see him. He shot a mournful look towards Tony who was looking decidedly uncomfortable that an assassin had come that close to getting to him. "If only you had arrived ten seconds later." He murmured sadly.

"Excuse me for not wanting him dead, even if he is an arse." Clint was methodically wrenching his hands behind his back and tying them together.

"Really, Clint, all you had to do was ask." Harry mused as he tested his bonds with a sly smirk. Well, this was such a wonderful way to end his day. "I don't suppose you'd consider letting me go to lick my wounds."

"Oh no. I believe Romanov wanted a word with you. Something about an incident in Singapore?"

"Damn, I was hoping she'd let that go."

"You left her tied up and naked, Potter. She's not going to forget that." Both turned to Tony when they heard his snort of laughter.

"In my defense, she interrupted me while I was making a kill. Just imagine what I'm going to do to you, Barton." He said with a smirk.

0-0-0-0-0

"So, we have in our hands, the assassin known as the Child Killer." Fury was leaning over a chair. "What do we know about him?"

"His name's Harry Potter, but all records have been completely wiped." Natasha answered as she drummed her fingers on the table. "Nothing on who raised him, where he went to school, not so much as a birth certificate."

"So he doesn't exist." Bruce clarified. He was probably wishing his own records were like that. It would make it so much easier to hide if they were.

"No, he doesn't." Tony sighed. "Whoever wiped his records did a damn good job. I've got nothing. Annd he managed to deactivate JARVIS while he was in my penthouse."

"So, he doesn't exist and he's a good hacker. What else."

"He doesn't kill for money." Clint's voice drifted down from the ceiling.

"Agent Barton! Get your ass down here!" Fury's eye was twitching as he glared at Clint who was climbing out of the ceiling. Clint nonchalantly dropped into his own chair, and leaned in. "Explain."

"As far as we can tell, he prides himself on his work. Money means nothing to him, and he is not easily swayed from a course of action."

"He first showed up twelve years ago and he made a name for himself, though he was not and still isn't an easy man to get ahold of."

"But he can't be more than fifteen!" Steve interjected with a bewildered expression.

"He's in his late twenties, possibly early thirties." Natasha explained. "He picks and chooses based on how difficult someone is to take out."

"Hence why he picked me." Tony muttered. "So, what do we do with him?"

"He's already turned SHIELD down once." Natasha observed. "He'll probably do so again."

"Not hero material then?"

Both Clint and Natasha snorted at that. "Not hardly." Clint muttered.

---

I've read a few fanfics where Harry is a mechanic/baker/whatever else, and I really would like to see one where he is a less than savory person who is trapped in the form of a seventeen year old thinks to the whole Mastery of Death bit, and has twisted it around to his advantage.

---

Minerva rubbed the bridge of her nose tiredly. It was a lot of work being Headmistress of a school. Granted, she had some experience since she'd been the Deputy Headmistress for nearly twenty years, but it was very tiring. She had yet to find a suitable replacement for her own position, so it looked like she would be teaching on top of her duties as Headmistress. Fortunately, Filius had agreed to be the Deputy Headmaster and Rolanda and Poppie were both helping with we Headmistress duties. Minerva was quite pleased to have such good colleagues and friends.

Unfortunately, that still left several positions that needed to be filled. Alastor had agreed to take on the position of Defence professor, and had even suggested extra classes. After what had happened last year, she thoroughly agreed with his suggestion. That still left the Potion's position open, and she was rather hoping to replace Cuthbert as the History of Magic professor. Potions was the more pressing concern.

There had been no applicants for the potions position, however. That was a bit of a problem.

"Minerva, are you in here?" Pomona's voice drifted through the doorway.

"Yes." Minerva called back. She sat back and rubbed her aching eyes.

"You've been holed up here all afternoon." Pomona commented as she entered the office.

Minerva sighed. "I know; I really must get things ready for September the first, however."

Pomona smiled somewhat sadly. "You're doing your best, I know. I'm surprised the Board even agreed to open the school this year." She observed.

"Many families have removed their children. Some have even fled the country." Minerva said as she indicated a stack of parchment. "The Parkinson's have withdrawn their daughter, and the Abbot's have fled to Iceland."

"How bad is it?" Pomona asked with considerable worry.

"The incoming crop of students is our largest group, mostly because the parents of the muggleborns don't know any better." Minerva answered. She hated lying to them, and she considered withholding valuable information the equivalent of lying.

"C'mon Minerva, you need to take a break."

"I know, what I lack is the time." Minerva looked every minute of her sixty-two years of age.

"Minerva, you're running yourself into the ground. You're no good to us if you're half dead from fatigue." Pomona leaned against the doorway.

Minerva had to admit that she was probably right. "Very well." She sighed as she finally pulled herself to her feet. "I suppose you're right."

With a final glance at the stack of paperwork that still required her attention, she swept by the younger witch and down the revolving staircase. She would have to make a point of removing it if all possible. Minerva wasn't overly fond of staircases that moved in any case; they were an accident waiting to happen, and having one that she would be going up several times a day was not something she wanted to look forward to.

That was near the bottom of her list of things that she needed to do, however. First and foremost was finding a potions's professor. She was beginning to think that blackmail was not such a bad thing, not if it meant one less headache for her to deal with.

Hogwarts was silent as she strode through its empty halls. There were small signs of the fearsome battle that had been waged here not two months ago, a painting that was blackened here, a hole in the wall there, still, Hogwarts would be fixed before school was due to start in three weeks time. She would see to that.

Just seeing the signs sent waves of sadness through her. So many young lives ruined, so many needless deaths; it hurt to think of the brilliant young minds that would never again traverse the halls of Hogwarts.

War was such a senseless thing. The innocents were always those that were hit the hardest.

The walk down to Hogsmeade was long, and quite tiring for the witch. She was middle-aged by wizarding standards, but war and stress had affected her adversely. She wasn't nearly as active as she had once been.

Minerva apparated to Diagon Alley; she had a few things she needed to do before she could rest for the night, the most important of which was getting an ample supply of pamphlets printed up at Flourish and Blott's. Unfortunately, things were getting a bit tight. She didn't have much time to get everything in order for the tour for the muggleborns, and she had yet to send out supply lists. She felt incredibly harried to get all this done in three weeks.

She still didn't have a potions professor.

She was just heading into Flourish and Blott's when someone ran into her going out.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you ther- Minerva!" She glanced up and was quite surprised at who she saw. He clambered to his feet and reached down to pull her up as well. "Minerva, I haven't seen you in years!"

"Hello, Doctor." She replied warily as she eyed him. He hadn't changed a bit since she'd last seen him nearly two decades ago. His hair was still an unruly mess, and she noted distractedly that he still wore those odd shoes with his blue suit. Actually, now that she noted it, he didn't normally wear a blue suit under his long brown coat. Every time she'd seen him previously it had been a brown pinstriped affair. "You haven't changed a bit, I see."

"Nope!" He popped the 'p' sound as he glanced around, noting the unusually somber attitude of most of the few shoppers. "Things have changed, haven't they." He murmured in a low voice.

"I think you'd better come with me, but first, I really need inside."

"Right, sorry about that." He stepped out of the way. Ten minutes of haggling later, she had a stack of pamphlets. Parchment paper was also picked up before she escorted him to Hogwarts. All thoughts of heading home and subsequently bed were forgotten. She had resigned herself to another sleepless night sleeping in the Headmistress quarters. They still hadn't quite gotten the smell of lemon drops out.

"So what's happened since I was last here?" He asked as he sprawled out in a chair opposite her desk.

"Lily is dead." Minerva said bluntly. His face fell slightly at that.

"How long?" He asked softly as he sat up properly in the chair and stared at his hands.

"Nearly sixteen years."

He looked morose. "It's been two weeks for me, two weeks since I left her with James." His voice sounded so...broken.

He took in a long deep breath before indicating that she continue. "Harry Potter defeated Voldemort the night Lily died, but not permanently."

The Doctor frowned slightly at that. There was something niggling at the back of his brain about that, but he couldn't quite remember what it was. It was very important, he knew, but he wasn't sure if it concerned Harry, Lily, or Voldemort.

"He came back?" He hazarded with a slight frown. He had experience with people coming back after he had thought he was dead.

Minerva nodded with a weary look. "There is a prophecy concerning him and Harry."

The Doctor frowned slightly at that. He had ran into a prophecy or two, and knew they were nothing to sneeze at, but they weren't set in stone either. Like most things concerning time, they were quite flexible.

"I don't remember the exact wording, but suffice to say, Harry is expected to kill Voldemort, or be killed by him."

The Doctor winced in sympathy. He had been in that particular situation more times than he cared to count.

"Last year, Albus managed to get himself cursed. Voldemort set up a massive plan to destroy us. One of our students was tasked with the mission of killing Albus." She shuddered slightly. "It was a ploy, however. His real goal was to find a way to get his death eaters and himself into Hogwarts. Those that chose not to join him were executed in the Great Hall." How her voice managed to stay steady was beyond her.

She could still remember them being lined up, could remember curse after curse hitting them, the screams of agony before they were finally allowed to die. A good portion of the fifth year Gryffindors were gone. Some of the sixth and seventh years were gone as well, but most of them had been fifth years.

Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw hadn't been hit as hard, but a few had been executed. Slytherin hadn't been touched.

The expression on the Doctor's face was one of anger. Minerva shivered slightly, glad that he was on her side. She didn't quite understand who or what he was, but she could recognize a very dangerous man when she saw one.

"The Order arrived to help, but it was a trap on that end as well. Only Alastor and Kingsley survived." All of the pent up emotions were starting to bleed through. "We're in shambles, Doctor. We can't keep fighting him, not the way we are."

Minerva glanced up at him uneasily. "Voldemort's winning." She said softly. "The Prophet is painting Harry as the villain; they're saying that he was missing when the executions were going on, that he was too cowardly to watch his friends die."

"He wasn't?"

Minerva shook her head. "He was with Albus. They were hunting for one of his horcruxes; Harry said it was a fake."

"Sounds like you need help." He mused.

"Hogwarts opens in three weeks, and we're still a professor short."

"What position?"

"Potions." The Doctor leaned back to think. He could tell she was asking, no, begging, him to take the job. It had been awhile since he had had a position of teaching. He was also between companions, so the TARDIS was rather quiet.

"One year, and I'll help bring down Voldemort."

Minerva couldn't have stopped the relieved smile from forming, nor did she try. "Thank you, Doctor."

"Dr. John Smith. And it's one year, just one." He said warningly. He didn't think he could stand being in one place for longer than that. "Now, I need to read up on the subject and pick up my TARDIS." His plan was to pick up quite a few books on the subject, take his TARDIS into the vortex and just relax there and read.

"I shall also be needing a list of textbooks within the next day or so." Minerva told him as she looked at him sternly over his glasses. "You can't wait until the last minute on this."

"I'll get it to you." He said.

She waited until he had left before pouring herself a shot of firewhiskey. She needed it after that meeting.

The Doctor had been in and out during the first war. When he had picked up Lily, she had been a brave fighter and one of her best, but something had happened the week she'd been with the Doctor. She had come back slightly older and much more resourceful and wielding magic in ways Minerva had never seen. She had privately told Minerva that she had had to learn how to properly utilize it in order to get it to work in some of the places she had been since magic apparently didn't work the same everywhere. It had been an odd conversation all around. James had seemed warier around his wife too.

Still, the Doctor was a dangerous person; she wasn't even sure if he was a wizard or not.

---

This is another one of those lovely 'the-Doctor-is-Harry's-dad' fics and teaching to boot. It was intended to be an angsty fix with vaguely suicidal!Harry.

---

Summertime. Harry absolutely detested summertime. Most kids looked forward to the summer holidays, eager to get out of stuffy classrooms and away from overbearing teachers. Harry vastly preferred that to being completely and utterly ignored except when his relatives needed something from him. On the rare case that his relatives paid the slightest amount of attention to him, it was usually to tell him how utterly useless he was. Harry was used to this, however. It had long since ceased bothering him.

The teen was currently wandering the streets of Surrey, trying to find something to occupy himself. He might have been afraid of death eaters catching him, but he didn't really care if they did. At least then something would be happening that could take his mind off of his Godfather's death. He couldn't help but feel guilty about his death because he had been studying to shield his mind. He should have worked harder at it, should have practiced more.

Hindsight was twenty-twenty, or so the muggle saying went.

Unfortunately, he didn't think that the Death Eaters were going to kidnap him. Surely they had more important things to do than stalk a teenaged boy who couldn't even shield his mind from a psychopath.

A loud shout of 'Harry' had him spinning around and staring, while berating himself. He should have learned by now, never go anywhere without his wand. A young man looked surprised at his surroundings. "What the-?" His eyes focused on Harry, who was inching away from, prepared to start running the second he was able to. "You must be Harry Potter." He greeted with a friendly smile.

Harry took that as his cue to turn around and sprint away. All the while, Harry cursed his own stupidity. He was the boy-who-lives, for crying out loud, he should no better than to go around unarmed. Still, he figured he could outrun his attacker. Harry was quite a fast runner. He wasn't as fast as he used to be, before Hogwarts, but he could still sprint faster and longer than most wizards could.

Unfortunately, he appeared to have found the one wizard who had as much if not more speed and endurance than him.

"Harry, stop! I'm not going to harm you! I have an offer for you." The young man was right behind him and Harry mentally groaned. The man didn't even look winded, unlike Harry who was regretting not at least jogging while at Hogwarts. It took a moment for Harry to figure out why he looked vaguely familiar.

"Impressive." The man murmured. "So few of the wizarding kind do any sort of exercise, except for the aurors, of course, certainly not at Hogwarts, though." He was beaming.

Harry ignored that. "Crouch. Come to finish the job?"

He blinked at Harry. "What? No! I'm not Crouch. I'm Dr. John Smith."

Harry stared at him. Now that he had a proper look, he noticed a few differences. This man didn't have a tic and he was wearing a suit underneath his robes, which he kept awkwardly tugging at.

"What do you want?" Harry asked guardedly.

"What? Oh, right. The Department of Mysteries reviewed what happened three weeks ago." He looked positively thrilled at the mere thought.

"I'm sorry for what we-" Harry was interrupted by him.

"No, no, no, no, no. We're impressed, we are. No, we're offering you and your friends a special opportunity, if you like." He grinned madly. "It's sort of a work-study program, see."

"Look, I don't know if you've heard recently but my hands are full with Voldemort." Harry said awkwardly.

"This isn't something we offer to just anyone." All cheerfulness was gone and he fixed the panting teen with a sharp look. "If you agree, you will attend a special Mysteries-approved magical Academy where you will be taught more than Hogwarts could ever hope to teach you. Should you wish to use that against Riddle, that is your business."

Harry blinked at him. "What?" He finally managed.

"Your fighting was impressive, but we are also impressed by your ingenuity and skill. You held your own against seasoned Death Eaters, something which most aurors have difficulty with these days. We are offering you a chance to attend a very premier magical academy, that does not just open its doors for anyone." He explained. "This offer will not be made again and should you refuse, this entire meeting will be removed from your memories."

"What do you want." Harry asked bluntly. "In my experience, these things are not free."

"Oh no, we want you to work in a subsection of the Department of Mysteries, once your schooling is done."

Harry stared at him. He could honestly say that he had never considered working in that Department. "Doing what exactly?" He asked skeptically.

"Depends on what you specialize in." The man was bouncing on his feet and grinning madly. "I work in the Department of Time." He paused a moment and frowned slightly. "I'm forgetting something, aren't I?" He mused to himself. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Oh, right!" He reached into a pocket of his robes and withdrew a packet that should not have fit in there. "Here." He effectively distracted Harry from pondering his appearance more. "Look this over. Owl your reply to the Department of Mysteries." He instructed. "Don't tell your friends, by the way. Your mail is being watched."

Harry accepted the package from him. "How did you find me without finding my guard?" He asked.

The man chuckled darkly. "Let's just say they're a bit busy. Approaching your other friends was nothing compared to getting a few free minutes with you."

Harry frowned a moment before shrugging and rifling through the information packet. There was an information packet, a form, and other assorted odds and ends, including financial information. When he looked up to remark on that, he realized that the strange man was gone. His brow furrowed at that since he hadn't heard him disapparate or leave.

With a shrug, he turned around and headed home.

-O-O-

It was amazing what Harry read in the information packet. Although it didn't sound perfect by any means, Harry wasn't so sure about Blood Magic or Dark Magic, and he certainly had no intention of taking anything involving the words 'sacrifice', 'death', 'power', or 'ritual' in the description, he found it quite interesting, and certainly more factual than his introduction to Hogwarts. What was more, it had summer classes.

Harry was leaning more towards a yes than a no. The only thing he wasn't sure about were his friends. As a whole, the group had grown closer over the events in the Ministry, or so he had thought. He had received no mail at all, so he wasn't sure if it was Dumbledore's doing or if something similar to his second year was happening.

There were a large variety of classes to choose from and Harry found himself debating what to specialize in. He had noted that this magical academy seemed to operate more like a university than Hogwarts had. Deciding to put that off until later, he picked up the financial packet since he doubted something like this was cheap.

A few seconds later, his eyebrows shot up. The Department of Mysteries had a clause going that they would pay for up to half of the education as long as he agreed to work for them after his education was complete. What wasn't paid for by them could be achieved through various scholarships and grants. Harry was quite surprised since he was eligible for some of them.

Thoughtfully, he padded downstairs and retrieved a sheet of paper, an envelope, and a stamp. Since he was apparently unable to send owls, he was going to use the muggle post, at least to Hermione. Hopefully she could shed a bit of light on the mysterious Academy of Advanced Magic.

Hermione,

I've tried repeatedly to send you an owl, but she keeps turning up empty-handed so I'm not sure if Professor Dumbledore has instilled a no-contact policy on me or if someone is stealing my post again. It occurred to me that sending this the muggle way might actually succeed in getting to you.

At any rate, I received a rather interesting visitor earlier today. I won't go into detail what it was about since he told me not to, but he made me an offer that I might be considering. Do you know of what I am talking about and can you shed any light on this?

How has your summer been? Mine's been rather boring, to be honest. The relatives have been ignoring me mostly, which is actually kind of nice.

-Harry

Harry tucked the letter into the envelope and prayed that Hermione wasn't with the Weasley's or at Grimmauld's Place. Otherwise, this whole letter would be for naught. He realized as he turned it over to fill out the address that he actually didn't know where Hermione lived. With a muttered curse, he retrieved the phone book and searched through it until he found the Grangers. After cross-referencing Callum and Evie Granger with the business section, decided that that was probably them.

After scribbling the address on the front of the envelope, he left the Dursley's to mail it. Now all he had to so was wait, and decide what he was going to specialize in.

As it turned out, students could take anywhere from fourteen to twenty classes each year, twenty-eight if they chose to take summer classes as Harry probably would. There was a limit of ten classes per semester. Harry decided he rather liked that and resolved to fall back into his more scholarly habits that he had had when he was younger.

Ever since he was young, he had always been a smart young man. He hadn't made exceptional grades or anything like that because he didn't want to draw even more ire from Dudley and his friends. It wasn't that the Dursley's frowned upon Harry's grades being excellent, Merlin knew they had encouraged heavily his good grades; it was just that his fellow primary schoolers did not like nerds and had made it clear what they would do to anyone who proved smarter than average. That and he got tired of Dudley stealing his homework to pass off as his own.

So Harry had made it a habit of studying in secret where Dudley couldn't bother him and his Vernon couldn't offer useless trivia, as he was prone to doing back when Harry was prone to doing his homework in the kitchen. When he had realized he could do magic, Harry had realized that that could be why his relatives didn't like him overly much - they abhorred anything unnatural, which was why they encouraged his high marks in maths and science.

He had somewhat dropped those habits however. Ron had made his opinions quite clear about what he thought of intellectuals. After Hermione had joined their little group, Harry had gotten so engrained into his habits, and he hadn't wanted to show up Hermione, although he suspected that would have been difficult even if he were studying as much as he used to. While he was a fairly quick reader, she was quicker and had a better retention of what she read. He sometimes suspected she had an eidetic memory. Add that to the fact that she was good at piecing things together, and she was a much better scholar than he was. She could do with ease what he could only do with hours of studying.

After a fair bit of thought, he decided to try out Combat Magic, Healing Magic, and a few classes here and there that interested him. He was a bit leery about some classes like Potions, but he did recognize the use of brewing his own. With that in mind, he marked down on a piece of parchment which classes he was interested.

-O-O-

It was two days later when he received a reply from Hermione. He was quite happily surprised to receive it since he had wondered whether she would even be home.

"Boy!" Vernon's loud voice echoed through the rooms of the house. Harry looked up, wondering why his uncle wanted him downstairs since it wasn't time to start lunch yet.

"Yes?" He asked as he trundled downstairs.

"You've got a letter."

Harry couldn't stop the wide grin from spreading across his face. Vernon narrowed at his eyes at his nephew.

"What's this about, then?" He asked sharply as he held the letter out of reach.

"It's just a letter from one of my friends." Harry noted that Petunia had wandered out of the kitchen to see what was happening, and even Dudley had poked his head out of his room.

"One of...them?" Vernon asked. Harry nodded. "What about?"

"We're discussing something that concerns school." Harry answered nervously as he eyed his uncles face.

"And you're using normal post?"

Yeees." Vernon finally handed him the letter and Harry disappeared into his room to read it.

Harry,

You caught me just in time. We just got back from Italy two days ago. I haven't received any letters either before or during my trip to Spain. It's quite odd since I borrowed Pig and sent you a letter before I left. This is rather worrying since I've received mail from Ron and Neville. I wonder if they've tried writing you. Have you tried Dobby? As much as I hate using slave labor, he seems the best bet. I would be careful about sending anything to Ron or Ginny. Professor Dumbledore's been in and out of the Burrow, or so Ron's told me.

I did actually. It all seems rather interesting and mum and dad like the looks of it. They are seriously considering it. I've sent a letter to Ron asking if he received any visitor's. Or Ginny for that matter. I've discussed it a bit with mum and dad and they've agreed that they'll seriously think about it and let me know by the end of the week. It might be easier to convince them if someone else I know has agreed to go as well. I've sent owls to Neville and Luna, being as vague as possible.

Harry, it honestly sounds like a good deal. I would consider it. I've researched it and ran into a few records of it, not many, but they are out there. It is apparently one of the best out there and getting invited is very rare. I should warn you though, they are somewhat unprejudiced in who they have working there. I mean that literally, they don't care about pasts or what people've done as long as they teach well and don't present too much of a threat to the students. There have been records of murderers, psychopaths, and everything else you can think of. It's not safe, but if you survive, I think you'll be better prepared to fight Voldemort.

My summer's been quite good, thank you. As I said, I went to Italy for vacation. I started to ask if you'd gotten your homework done, but that's rather a moot point, isn't it. At any rate, I've got to go unpack.

-Hermione

With a wide smile, Harry jotted a reply and set out to mail it back to her. With luck, he wouldn't be going alone. He did consider her idea of using Dobby.

"Dobby?" He asked tentatively. When no house elf was forthcoming, he shrugged it off as a lost cause. He hadn't really expected it to work in any case since Dobby was a free elf.

He had asked Hermione what their replies had been in his letter so he expected an answer with her next letter. With a pleased grin, he holed himself up in his room to consider what he might need since there was no actual supplies list.

Nothing much happened for the next few days. No letter came from Hermione, and he begun to worry that someone had figured out what they were doing. He needn't have worried, however, because a letter came for him that Saturday.

"Boy! Letter!"

"Here." Harry immediately opened the letter and started reading it.

Harry,

Alright, Ron and Ginny didn't get visitors. That guy came back and told me that he couldn't arrange to visit you again. He also said that Ginny would be difficult to approach, but that Ron was not trustworthy. I wouldn't believe him, but he sounded so...trustworthy. He even cited a few examples. He said that if you decide to accept, it'll be easier to chat with you once you're there since he's working there himself.

I'm not sure what to think of that.

Anyway, mum and dad agreed, so I've already sent in my acceptance. Neville said that his grandmother was leery, but that she agreed in the end. Luna didn't even ask her dad. She just said yes. So, now we're waiting on Ginny. He said that the DoM was working on getting her parents out of the way long enough to meet with Ginny.

Anyway, you should get your aunt or uncle's permission down in writing. For legal purposes.

-Hermione

0-0-0-0-0

Harry decided once and for all that Professor Dumbledore was creepy. How many professors insisted that they meet in a broom shed, after all? That was beyond creepy. Hiding a shiver of disgust, Harry headed inside to meet his friends.

"He was offering me 'extra lessons'." He murmured to Hermione as he passed her. If her look of disgust was anything to go by, she was in complete agreement with his thoughts on that.

"What do you think they were about?" Ginny asked later on that evening.

"I'm not sure I want to know." Harry said dryly. "At the moment, he's not exactly on my favorite person list."

Hiding their plans from the Weasley's was difficult. Mrs. Weasley seemed to instinctively know that he, Hermione, and Ginny were conspiring. Ron, however, seemed oblivious to what was going on. Harry, for the life of him, couldn't figure out why the strange Dr. Smith didn't trust Ron. For his part, however, he kept his silence about it. For one thing, he found something was preventing him from speaking of it. Every time he tried, his tongue froze up. When it was just he and the other two future students, he could talk freely. It was quite strange.

One morning, he found a small silver ring and instructions for it. It was set for August 17th at nine in the morning. He was only to bring any valuables he required for the year since clothes, books, and other necessities could be purchased upon arrival. A quick check confirmed that Hermione and Ginny had received similar items.

Harry pocketed his and spent most of his time playing Quidditch with the Weasleys. He would have liked to do a bit of studying, but Mrs. Weasley was suspicious enough as it was. Still, he managed to find time for Hermione and Ginny both.

"Hey." He said as he found the two in Hermione's room.

"Mum thinks we're shagging." Ginny said bluntly.

Harry stopped pacing and stared at her. "What?" He finally managed.

"Mum gave me 'the talk' and a few pointers." The youngest Weasley was blushing a tomato red, which, clashed magnificently with her hair.

"Why?"

"I think she's hoping to invoke one of the 'Ye Olde Laws' that no one ever pays attention to anymore." Ginny snorted in disgust.

"What laws?" Hermione asked curiously.

"He that knocks a maiden up must marry said maiden." She did a pretty good impression of her mother. "I think mum wants to make you an official member of the family."

He kept silent about that. Harry wasn't entirely sure of his own sexuality. It wasn't that he was particularly interested in boys or anything like that, it was just that he had yet to figure out what be was interested in. Cho had been a passing fling that had quickly worn out and since then no one male or female had caught his eye.

"I think she's grasping at straws, to be honest." Ginny murmured.

"Why though?" Hermione mused. "Harry's a bit young marrying."

"Who knows how adults think." Ginny snorted.

"So when do yours activate?"

"Mine's at ten." Hermione put in.

"Ten-thirty." Ginny replied.

"Oh." Harry mused. "Mine's at nine."

"This could be tricky." Hermione remarked. "You're leaving the earliest, but once you do, they'll be on high alert." Neither of them needed to ask who 'they' were. The trio were trying to be as vague as possible in case someone was listening.

"Maybe we should all sneak away and hide until portkey." Ginny suggested.

"Or maybe we should see if we can ask them if they can arrange something." Harry put in. "They seem remarkably good at arranging everything else."

"But how?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged. "I dunno. I was just making a suggestion."

"How about this. She thinks you two are shagging. So why don't you disappear off somewhere and wait, and I'll hint at what you're supposedly doing.

"And you?"

Hermione thought about it for a few seconds. "I can pretend to be mad and lock myself in my room and wait."

"What if they realize you've disappeared?" Ginny asked Hermione. "What if they start looking for us?"

"I can lend you my invisibility cloak." Harry suggested.

The trio hashed everything else out as well before finally deciding that they had their plans as good as they could possibly be.

"I just hope this works."

0-0-0-0-0

Harry was packed with everything but his invisibility cloak, which he dutifully gave to Ginny as they headed out to the clearing where they had played several games of Quidditch.

"See you in a bit." Harry said as he hugged Ginny good-bye.

"Good luck, Harry." She answered as she hugged back.

At precisely nine, Harry felt the familiar tugging on his naval and he found himself in an office alone. He blinked and stared around him, trying to figure out what was going on.

After a moment, he awkwardly took a seat on the other side of the desk and waited patiently. A minute later, he heard voices approaching the office. The door opened and someone entered. Harry found him staring in equally surprised burgundy eyes.

"I knew it!" Harry exclaimed as he shot out of the chair with his wand out. "That was Crouch."

"What, Dr. Smith? No it wasn't." He said shortly as he circled to the other side and sat down. "I assure you, he was exactly who he said he was." He glanced sharply at the young teen. "Do sit down, Potter. We've got quite a bit to go over. Call me Thomas, by the way."

"I thought your name was just Tom."

"Oh, it is." He answered breezily. "I prefer Thomas however, and most don't know me well enough to call me on it. Sit down, and I shall try to keep this as civil as possible."

"What? No crucios? No death threats?"

He raised an eyebrow at him. "Would you prefer that?" He asked sardonically.

"Well, no."

"Good, because I really don't want to." The Dark Lord answered. "Now if you're done acting like an angsty teenager, we need to get down to business." Harry flushed, but did not say anything. "What specializations were you considering?"

Harry mumbled something so low that the Dark Lord couldn't quite make it out. "Could you repeat that?" Thomas asked dryly.

"Combat and Healing." Harry answered quietly as he examined his fingernails.

"To kill me, I suppose." There was no malice behind his voice, although it was heavy with irony.

"Yeah?"

"I can't say as I'm surprised by that." It annoyed Harry how blasé he was being about him trying to kill him. "Might I recommend you take Wizarding Politics." He remarked as he eyed the teen.

"Why?"

"Do you even know what this war is about?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You eradicating muggles and muggleborn?" Harry asked.

Thomas snorted. "You are definitely taking Wizarding Politics." He muttered as he marked the class down.

"But-" Harry started to protest.

"I am your Student Advisor until you graduate, Potter." Thomas informed him. "As such, I can strongly recommend classes that do not specialize in magic."

"Oh."

"So, Combat and Healing, you say." Thomas glanced over a list of classes. "Most classes don't have more than three or four students."

"Why such small classes?"

"We have quite a few, but only eighty-nine students. World-wide." Thomas answered.

"I think you'll be wanting to take Magical Theory to start your combat classes off. I also recommend taking a self-defence class."

"Why?" Harry asked blankly.

"Dr. Smith tells me you are a good sprinter. Imagine how good that would be in a fight where you are outnumbered, outclasses, and unable to apparate." Harry thought about that a moment before nodding thoughtfully. After some thought, Harry chose a weapons class. For muggle weapons. He knew the basics about how those worked, and he figured that he'd probably be better at them then sword-fighting or anything like that. Plus that required him to actually get close to his opponents, something he wanted to avoid at all costs.

"Let's see, you'll be taking offensive and defensive magical classes, I presume." Harry nodded eagerly. He'd decided he would take those first and then take Survivalist classes next year.

He marked those two classes down. "You'll be wanting to take Potions as well." Thomas remarked. Harry grimaced but nodded anyway. Thomas smirked slightly at his expression. "Let's see, Basic Healing Standards would be good as well as Identifying Herbs and Poisons. So that brings your total up to eight classes as well." Thomas tapped the pen against the paper. Harry noted for the first time that he wasn't using quills and parchment like he would have expected. "Two more classes at the very least. See any you like?"

Harry perused the first year classes and finally pointed at Wizarding culture. "I suppose I should take that."

"Only took you six years to figure out that you should learn about us." Thomas muttered in disgust as he shook his head and marked down the class.

Harry flushed and shot him a glare, but did not otherwise comment. "Got any classes you'd recommend?" He asked challengingly.

Thomas glanced over the list and muttered under his breath thoughtfully. "How does mystical creatures sound to you?" He asked.

Harry thought about it for half a second and nodded. "That'll work."

"That'll be fun. I hear Dr. Smith takes his later classes on trips to meet them in person." Thomas muttered as he marked them under his breath.

Harry looked at him interested. He made a mental note to take the later classes. That sounded fun.

"Well, Potter, I think we are about done." Thomas set the pen down and scanned over the paper, presumably making sure he hadn't made any mistakes. "You will receive your schedule on the twenty-fifth. Classes start the twenty-eighth. You are free to make yourself at home until then."

Harry eyed him warily before nodding. "You're not going to kill me in my sleep, are you?" He asked warily.

"No, Potter. I'm not." He sighed in exasperation. "Smith would kill me it I did."

Harry stared at him with an odd expression.

-O-O-

Harry met up with Neville who had apparently portkeyed in at the same time.

"How was your summer?" He asked the shyer boy.

"Okay." Neville shrugged. "I spent most of it in the Greenhouses behind our house."

"You have a greenhouse?" Harry asked.

Neville nodded with a nervous smile. "Yeah. I'm the only one that really uses it though."

"I used to do a fair bit of gardening for my aunt." Harry remarked. He tactfully did not add that the experience made him despise plants and gardening in general.

"Really? What kind?"

"Mostly for show." Harry grimaced slightly. "The kind that required lots of maintenance."

Neville looked torn. Harry must not have done as good of a job as he had thought he had hiding his dislike. Neville looked like he was torn between protecting the virtue of plants and sympathizing with him.

"They're the kind of plants that are there for beauty and not much else." Harry hastened to reassure him. "I don't think you would've liked them very much."

Neville finally settled for shrugging. "So who was your student advisor? Mine was Dracula."

Harry's jaw dropped. "Are you certain?" He asked wide-eyed.

"Spitting image. He showed me his fangs." Neville shivered slightly at that.

"Mine was Lord Voldemort." Harry said with a straight face.

"Now you're just mocking me." Neville complained.

"No, no. I was being serious." Harry said quickly.

Neville stared at him faintly. "What have we gotten ourselves into?" He asked faintly.

At lunchtime, the group met up in the cafeteria. There were a large variety of teachers and students, and all of them seemed to intermix amongst the round tables. Hermione was looking vastly annoyed as she plopped down beside Harry.

"If I don't murder my advisor before the end of the year, it'll be a miracle." She snarled as she stabbed a potato viciously with her fork.

"Who was it?" Harry asked as he piled roast beef onto his plate.

"Sherlock bloody Holmes, named after his sodding grandfather!" She snapped.

Even Harry had heard of Sherlock Holmes. "You're serious?"

Ginny eyed them for a moment. "Sherlock was a rather intelligent wizard." She remarked as she sedately ate her green beans. "I think his grandson was a squib though."

"Whatever the case, he is the most insufferable, rude man I've ever met. And that's with knowing Professor Snape!"

"What did he say?" Neville asked.

"He told me that I was clearly trying to impress him with my knowledge about the wizarding world, and that I thought I had to prove myself since I was from the muggle world. He also said that I had a crush on my best friend, but that it was doubtful it would ever come to anything."

Harry raised an eye at this. She noticed and blushed. "Not you, Harry. Ron." She scowled fiercely. "He also told me I should give up my idealistic views of the world and come to terms with reality." Harry suspected that this was about Spew.

"I'm not sure who or what I got." Ginny snorted. "All I know was I had to threaten to hex his balls off three times before he got the hint."

Harry snorted lightly at that. He wasn't about to get between Ginny and the poor sod. He liked his equipment right where they were, thank you very much.

"Count Vladislaous Dragulia." Neville announce with a slight shiver. "He spent the entire time eying my neck. I'm not sure if that was because he was hungry or if because he was trying to scare my pants off."

"I don't think the Headmaster would allow an uncontrollable bloodthirsty vampire in." Ginny pointed out as she skewered a slice of potato and ate it. "You've not said much, Luna. Are you alright."

"Oh, I was just keeping a lookout for Snurgies. They like to infest the weak minded and make them dance." The blonde murmured dreamily.

"So who's your student advisor?" Hermione asked curiously.

"The Master." Luna answered unfazed in the slightest.

"Who?" They all chorused together, before glancing at each other and dissolving in fits of laughter.

"The Master of the Universe." Luna explained. "He employs the Snurgies. It's how he wins the election in '08."

Hermione eyed her for a moment before brushing the odd comment off.

"Do you mind if I join you?" A smooth voice interrupted them. "We need to talk, I think."

"Did I mention my student advisor is Lord Voldemort?" Harry choked out. He was finding it hard not to laugh at their stunned expressions. Only Ginny had actually recognized Lord Voldemort, but the others had pieced things together when he had introduced Lord Voldemort to them.

"I think you might have forgotten to." Ginny was the first to recover and had her wand out at Voldemort before he could react.

"Not at the dinner table, if you don't mind." Lord Voldemort requested dryly. "Wouldn't want to make a scene, now would we?"

"Is he threatening us?" Neville murmured in an undertone.

Harry shrugged. "You get used to it." He glanced at Thomas. "So, what do you want?"

"To talk, naturally." Thomas said. "First off, I want to get this out of the way, so I won't be accosted randomly by irate Gryffindors."

"Luna's a Ravenclaw." Harry pointed out mildly.

"Luna's also not going to try to kill me." He retorted.

"So, talk. Why shouldn't we be trying to kill you?" Harry asked finally.

"How much do you know about horcruxes?" He asked the group of teens.

"Nothing beyond the fact that it sounds perverted." Harry hid a grin at that.

Thomas looked unamused. "A horcrux is a container for your soul. Every time you murder someone, your soul is split."

"Bet yours looks like it's had a run-in with Wolverine." Harry muttered under his breath. Hermione shot him an odd look.

"When I was young, I foolishly started making them without researching the consequences. I did not care about those; I just wanted the benefits." He paused for breath before continuing. "The consequences, however, far outweigh the benefits."

"How?" It was Hermione that spoke up.

"The soul is what makes us who we are, that and our magic is tied to the soul. The more fractured it is, the easier the Dark Arts are, I might add."

"So when you split your soul and left them lying around, you were damaging your magic?"

"And myself. Before I 'died' I was insane. I didn't care about anyone or anything; I forgot what I was fighting for. All I cared about was killing." Harry started to say something but Thomas guessed what it was. "I know that this little tale does not excuse my actions, but please, hear me out."

The group leaned in interested.

"I was insane, every story you've ever heard about me was probably true. I was a monster. But then something happened." He glanced over at Harry. "You destroyed my diary."

"Wouldn't that do more harm?" Harry frowned.

"Basilisk venom cannot destroy souls. Only dementors do that. Instead, that part of my soul rejoined the last remaining speck that I had."

"Interesting history lesson and all, but what does this have to do with us not killing you?"

"The first time you create a horcrux, you put half of your soul in." Thomas answered calmly.

Hermione gasped in sudden understanding. "Each time you created a horcrux, you put half of your soul in, but each time, you left it progressively smaller!"

"Correct. The diary was the first one I created. I now have about three-quarters of my soul."

"Where did the other quarter come from?" Ginny asked unexpectedly.

"Albus destroyed one of my horcruxes."

"His hand!" Harry realized.

"Yes, the idiot didn't bother to make sure I didn't put curses on the band. He is slowly dying. Only Severus is keeping him alive, something which Severus isn't happy about since I think he wants him dead about as much as I do."

"So are you going to destroy your other horcruxes?"

"Why would I?" Thomas raised an eyebrow. "I could just as easily send Albus on his little quest. The idiot no more understands horcruxes than I did."

"Why do you think that?" Neville frowned.

"He would be carting dementors around with him, if that was the case."

"So, you're getting sane. What's that got to do with anything?" Harry finally asked.

"I have bigger fish to fry than teenagers." Thomas answered. "Although I suppose I have a good reason for killing you now." Every teen at the table reached for their wands. "But I won't. The basilisk venom is doing its job."

"Wait...what?" Hermione asked with a puzzled frown.

Harry suddenly realized that he had never told either of his friends about being a basilisk. Now was as good of a time as any, he decided.

"The basilisk venom is still very much in your system. Have you ever gotten sick since you were bitten?"

Harry frowned as he tried to remember. Finally he gave up. "No."

"Viruses and bacteria wouldn't survive long because the venom is still in your blood, and I doubt it will ever leave."

"Is it toxic?" Harry was starting to panic.

"I doubt it. I'd have to examine your blood to be sure, but I daresay you would have noticed if your blood starting eating through your clothes, considering how often you seem to end up in the hospital wing."

Good point.

"I doubt it's poisonous. To be on the safe side, I'd avoid bloodplay during sex though." Harry flushed and hid his face while everyone laughed at that.

---

This would be a crossover of epic proportions. The characters mentioned were Dracula from Van Helsing, Dr. Frank-N-Furter from Rocky Horror Picture Show, the Doctor and the Master from Doctor Who, and Sherlock Holmes from BBC's Sherlock. There is always room for many many more crossovers, so knock yourself out.

As always, if you decide to write any fanfics for these, please send me links so I can read them and feel free to steal the snippets from here.