I own neither Harry Potter or Frozen - just borrowing and mixing together.

There are a few concepts I've used here that are likely to be familiar - With 600K+ Harry Potter stories, it becomes hard to come up with original ways of doing things in the HP universe. I apologies for any unintentional toe-stepping that occurs.


Chapter 1

Life was an odd thing, Harry reflected to himself.

Harry was give or take, 30 years old. He looked younger, but that was because he had a bit of a secret. Harry was a wizard. Not just any wizard, either. He was Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, The Man-Who-Won.

And here he was, trudging through the back alley in some village, in who knows what year, or even world. Harry Potter was a dimensional traveller. Admittedly, it wasn't by personal choice, but that was his lot in life – well, it was now.

How did this happen?


23 July 1998

Harry had defeated Voldemort at 17 years old, and for a brief time his life had improved. He, Ron and Hermione were no longer hunted by their government, and had gone about trying to help the Wizarding World rebuild, to heal some of the damage left by Voldemort's brief reign.

Before too long, though, Unspeakables had come to the Trio to try and extract details on, well, anything Dark Lord related. How did he survive, what ritual did he resurrect himself with, what happened between Harry and the Dark Lord in the forest – they were inexhaustible. Harry finally consented to answering some of them – behind the strongest wards he could come up with.

The Unspeakables agreed, and had asked Harry down to The Department of Mysteries for their 'discussion' (read: interrogation). This, of course, is where things started to get interesting. Upon arriving, the Unspeakables sat him down, and informed Harry that this was not only a discussion, but also an interview.

A job interview.

"Hang on just a mintu-"

"Mr Potter, please. Allow me to explain; my name is Croaker, and I am one of the few 'Public' Unspeakables. The outside wizarding world knows little of what goes on in here – you more than most, I suspect. We have been most impressed with your work thwarting Voldemort, and would like to hire you."

Croaker folded his arms carefully, watching Harry through his darkened hood. Harry, though, looked utterly confused.

"But- don't you lot do research, and experiments in magic? Not that I don't appreciate your opinion, but Hermione's always been better at the obscure than I."

"Mr Potter, you are aware of Aurors and Hit-Wizards, no?" Seeing Harry's nod, he continued. "The are, to make a muggle comparison, the 'police force' of the Wizards. Yes, they are well-trained, but as you and everyone saw, hardly a threat on a military scale. Here in the Department of Mysteries, we extensively train teams for... unusual operations. If it makes it easier, we are a more secretive version of England's 'Special Forces'. This is why we are speaking to you – although, Ms Grangers prodigious skill has been noted by our department."

"You want me to work for you as an - an assassin?!" Harry blurted, horrified and outraged.

Croaker grimly smiled. "That is certainly one of the jobs these teams field, but I doubt you would suit such a position at your age. In any case, you wouldn't have to decide until you finished the first part of your training."

"I – I see. Uh, I'm not sure I –"

"How about we come back to this discussion after we talk about Voldemort?"

"Sure, great." Harry gratefully took the out, and began to talk about what basically amounted to his life so far.

Several hours later…

"You broke the Elder Wand? You're absolutely sure?" Croaker had an odd lilt to his voice as he asked.

"Yes, I'm quite sure" Harry snapped. He was tired, and had spent hours forcing himself to recall painful memories, only to be prodded for more details. "I deliberately snapped it so that it's power – not it's magical power, but the power to push men to murder for it would be gone."

"Of course." Croaker was still speaking stiltedly. "Pity, though."

"Well, if that's all, I might head back home!" Harry said, looking forward to eating something hot – especially this deep in the ministry, warming charms only went so far in an English winter.

"Mr Potter, I will expect your reply to our offer soon, so consider it carefully. The training is exceptional – you would not have known, but our forces did as much damage to Voldemort's cause as we could – only our oaths to the ministry prevented more being done."

"Yeah, yeah. Thanks." Harry muttered as he shouldered his way through the door being opened for him, and stormed out of the DoM.

Harry brusquely strode through the Ministry Atrium, forcing a smile for the witches and wizards that happened to turn and see their hero. Inside he was yelling for them to move, but only the occasional pleasantry was actually heard. As soon as Harry found an apparition point, he turned ever so slightly, and popped into existence on the steps of Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

"Harry? Is that you – we were expecting you back a while ago." Hermione found him almost as soon as he entered the house – and immediately noticed his unhappy mood.

"What happened Harry – I thought –"

"It was just a long session, Hermione, nothing to be worried about." Harry said, "I'm fine, I'm fine."

"Hmph. Well, I know that 'I'm fine' is your code word for leave me be. If you need me, I'll be with Ron in the kitchen – I think he's going to try cooking again."

Coming down to dinner, Harry had already done lot of grumpy thinking, cursing the Unspeakables that lurked in the bottom of the Ministry.

"Joining the living, eh mate?" Ron was far too cheery for Harry, but he supposed Ron hadn't spent the day dealing with ministry wizards.

"Ron, leave him be! Heaven knows you've had your moods too." Hermione said primly.

Ron grimaced, and Harry snorted.

"Oi, let's not make this about me, hey?"

"It's alright, Hermione. You guys by now generally know when not to push. Besides, I wanted to tell you about what got me in this mood, anyway." Harry gratefully accepted a bowl of what he thought was stew from Ron. "What's this, then?"

"Just one of Mum's simpler recipes – ever since she heard about us not being able to cook much out camping, she's been on about me learning to look after myself more." Harry winced, that couldn't have been a fun argument. And it was Ron and work – there would have been an argument.

"It's fine, Harry – I had a taste before he started serving it up." Harry chuckled at Ron's offended look, before digging into his dinner.

As dinner progressed, Harry recounted his afternoon at the ministry, trying not to express his irritation with Croaker too much.

"So, what they're basically offering you is the chance to get some heavy training in magic, which they really don't seem to offer around that much?" Hermione had a look on her face, and combined with her tone, was telling Harry she thought he was upset about something he shouldn't be.

"Yeah, basically, but-"

"But what? Extra fighting training – I wish they would take me too!" Ron exclaimed, clearly excited on Harry's behalf.

"But hang on-"

"Hang on what? Sure, they didn't exactly present the idea in the nicest way, but Harry; Special Forces work in unconventional battle, high-risk stuff. And unconventional is how you've lots of things – I mean, please, stabbing a basilisk? Storming the ministry as 15 year olds, with only 5 others to back you up? Imagine if you had some actual training to back you up!"

"I still don't like what he said about oaths to the ministry – I mean, come on, I haven't liked any of the previous 3 ministers – Fudge, Scrimgeour, Thicknesse. Imagine if any of them had me oath bound!"

"But imagine how wicked it would be to have all that training!" Ron interjected.

"Harry, you should ask about it – send them an owl and ask for a copy of the oath, and, and a description of the jobs the training could prepare you for! You said you didn't want to be an assassin – which I totally agree with, bad idea – but what other things could you do? Just, think about it before you say no."

"I know, Hermione. It's just; again, I didn't do things the normal way. I haven't even graduated from Hogwarts yet!" Harry was starting to think the job might even be good for him. After living in the outside world for a year, Harry wasn't sure he even wanted to go back to Hogwarts; essays and grades didn't seem as important after chasing pieces of Voldemort around the country, and being in mortal peril day in and day out.

"Look mate – you guys are just going to argue and argue unless you drop it for a bit. Annnd, I'd rather not have you lot shouting at each other, because the Cannons match is being repeated on the radio tonight!" Ron clapped his hands, and promptly moved out of the room to get radio, as if it would solve everything.

"Sorry Hermione – You're right, I'll have a think about it, and ask Croaker some questions. At least if I take the job, I won't be hanging around all the time. Got to do something with my life. " Harry sighed. "I suppose I just thought I'd end up being an Auror."

"I'm sorry for pushing, Harry – it just seems like such a good opportunity, and –"

"You're starting to babble, Hermione." Harry grinned, "It's all good. I'm gonna head for bed, though. Say, how did you manage to let Kreacher let Ron cook?"

"Ah, that was Ron – he said that Mrs Weasley wanted a night off cooking and cleaning. And with the twins over distracting her, it was probably too late to stop him by the time she noticed." Hermione was reluctantly smiling, SPEW ideals still showing.

"Oh. Well, don't let me be around when she Floos over to give Ron a piece of her mind. Goodnight! Night Ron!" Harry hollered out towards the drawing room.

Harry only caught a muffled "Night!" back, but he was already half way up the stairs by that point.


29 July 1998

Harry had, over a week of letter writing, talking with his friends and thinking, decided that despite his crotchety manner, going back to Unspeakable Croaker was probably going to be an opportunity to take.

The oath, reflecting the recent havoc that ministry had undergone, had changed somewhat – it certainly allowed a lot more leeway than the previous. Hermione had taken the letter from Harry before he could even read it too her, and had spent an hour pouring over a legal dictionary she borrowed from her parents.

Harry had also decided that (assuming he survived the training), that while being an assassin wasn't his cup of tea, being a heavy-hitter on call was a much better option. No overly complex plots, and less politics and intrigue. Of course, it was more complicated than that, as he got basic training on everything, but it was a start.

So here he was, riding the clanking, noisy elevator to the Department of Mysteries – he was meeting with Croaker to confirm his decision in person.

As the doors creaked open to reveal Level 9, Harry shivered – the empty hall reminded him far too much of his disastrous quest here a couple years ago. He headed straight out only paused for a half-moment before opening the door to the Department of Mysteries. He sighed as the circular room span, and yelled for Croaker.

"Oi! Croaker – shut this damn room off, would you?!"

"I see you're enjoying our entrance room. Perhaps we should move on, though?"

Harry started, not having seen Croaker enter the room.

"Where'd you come from, then?"

"Not to worry – I suspect I'll be explaining that soon enough. Just through this door!" Croaker seemed to be in a much better mood, and was practically bouncing through the offices that Harry distinctly didn't remember from his last trip here – especially considering some of them were occupied. From there, they entered what must have been Croaker's office – it was a bit bigger and nicer looking, but still retained the same look as the others Harry had had a chance to glance at.

The desk was fairly large, completely bare except for a single quill and inkpot. There were two bookcases opposite either side of the desk, comfortably full of books that really looked quite ordinary – even some muggle books! None of the strange knick-knacks that had inhabited Dumbledore's office, though a Foe glass was clearly on the wall – none of the people in it were clear, though.

"So, Mr Potter – shall we sit down and do some paperwork? As a trainee, you don't have to sign as many confidentiality agreements as a full operative – you'll only have knowledge of the training program. Also, that oath to the ministry – with permission from the minister, we've decided that even with the amendments we have made, in your case we might waive it until you officially join the Department of Mysteries."

"This isn't official?" Harry asked, slightly confused. "You said –"

"Yes, well – it is everything but official. It just means you don't show up on the Ministry payroll – we have a budget allocated specifically for this, so don't worry about that."

"Not that I'd need to…" Harry muttered, but Croaker continued over the top of him.

"So, really, all that needs to be done is sign this –" He placed a piece of parchment in front of Harry, "And then get you kitted out and off to training!"

"Already?!" Harry asked, reading over the contract. "I – I thought you might need time to set this all up, and I remember you said training took a years – I don't suppose you'd be able to let me turn 18 before knocking out the next few years of my life?"

"Mr Potter, we're perfectly happy to let you have the 3 days of and around your birthday, but we'll start training this morning – I have an owl so you can let anyone you need to that you'll be busy until tomorrow morning – then you can have 3 days off, and you'll be back to finish your training." Croaker handed Harry his quill, and left to grab said owl.

Despite Hermione's helpful lessons on decoding legalese, it still took Harry 5 minutes to finish confirming that the contract read what he expected it to say, and was no more that a fairly standard secrecy contract.

Feeling his heart pounding, Harry signed the contract, and quickly jotted a note for Hermione and Ron, just as the older man walked back in with an owl.

"Thanks, it's just the one note." Harry said, tying it to the owl's leg. "They're in Grimmauld Place, alright?"

The small brown owl (bigger than Pig, but still small) bobbed its head, hooting its acknowledgment before taking wing back out the door.

"Ah excellent, Mr Potter. Right then – this way." Croaker said, leading Harry back out into the circular room.

"All you need to do to get to a specific room is call your name and the name of the room. As an employee, this room will now respond to you. For example – Croaker, Death Chamber." The room span violently, before abruptly halting, and a door sprang open to Harry's left. Inside, he could see the awful looking stone arch – whispering just out of range to be heard.

"Mr Potter – ignore the whispers – perhaps you could take us to the Time Room?" Harry started, having been distracted by the whispers.

"Sorry, yeah, sure. Potter, Time Room" Again, a violent spin later, and the door directly in front of Harry opened up, showing them the long, narrow room that Harry recalled.

"Newbie, Croaker?" There was only one person in this room, and he looked up as soon as the two entered. "Side room is all ready for you to go."

"Thanks, Crawford. We'll be back tomorrow, maybe around 7am."

"What? 7am?! How long is this bloody training session?" Harry demanded.

Both Unspeakables chuckled, and Crawford responded, "It'll be the longest night of you life, kid."

Harry didn't like the sound of that.

As it turned out, the 'side room' was bloody enormous – it was basically a manor house, with bedrooms, bathrooms, a kitchen, living areas and a equally large basement that was entirely empty – it must have been 20 metres across, perfectly circular, and really deep – probably a good 10 metre gap from roof to floor.

"What the hell is this place?"

"This, Mr Potter, is a wing of the Department of Mysteries that can undergo Time Compression – time will run faster inside this wing than in the outside world. For the day that we spend in there, we will experience 20 months. That is, for every hour experienced out there, we will have lived in here for a month."

"What the- how in hell?!" Harry spluttered.

"Surely you have experience with the Impedimenta jinx, Mr Potter? If I jinxed with it, to me, you would slow down, but to you, the world would speed up! This is much the same, simply in reverse, and applied as a ward – a ward that we have applied to this wing of the Department."

"So, when you said that my training would take several years, you meant that I'd be ready in a few days?!" Harry asked, shocked at how much could be done in such a short time.

"Yes – it is actually a fairly simple procedure. We are hardly the only group to use such a system, but our location above the ley lines the Ministry was built upon allows us to draw much more magic to help power this ward. Only at Hogwarts would you get a larger source."

"I still can't believe -!"

"Mr Potter, we've got nearly 2 years for you to work this out in your head. Really, if I didn't know you were smarter than this, I'd be having second thoughts."

"Right, right, ok. Well, I suppose I'll duck home quickly and pack.. Uh, everything and come back?" Harry realised that spending 2 years with only what he had on him would be… interesting to say the least, and was starting to get excited about training.

"Not to worry – I took the liberty of arranging everything. What you have in here will suffice for your training. Everything we have for you – clothes, training gear, books – even a broom, if you want to take a spin around the basement, has all been purchased with this stay in mind. It'll be a long time, but you won't have time to be bored. That I promise you, Mr Potter."

With those ominous words, what sounded like a gong rang throughout the wing, and the door started glowing a soft blue.

They were trapped here for the next 20 months. Nothing but training.

Harry grinned to himself – bring it on.