Chapter 2: From Voldemort with Love


Harry slammed the beefy Death Eater into the wall with a hasty Banishing spell. The huge bastard who'd waylaid Harry while he was draining the lizard just refused to go down. The man staggered to his feet and rushed at Harry. Harry couldn't leap out of the way fast enough and found himself crushed in a powerful bear hug.

"So I guess this is how the famous Boy-Who-Lived dies?" The man taunted as he tightened his rib-cracking hold. "Not as tough as I'd expected from a lad who killed the Dark Lord as a baby. Must have been a fluke!"

Harry's vision began to waver, grey spots appearing due to the lack of oxygen. He cursed his stupidity. The attack come so quickly he hadn't had the time to grab on of the 'Kippers' that R&W so thoughtfully provided him. He'd no idea why they named the disposable wands that, but they were horribly useful. Somehow R&W managed to whip together a single-use wand the size of a toothpick that could focus a single AK before disintegrating, leaving no trace of the spell or its caster. Since the British magical community held a barbaric disdain for the single most effective and clean killing spell ever invented, the class-W agents of Her Majesty's Secret Service often carried scads of the things, and Harry was no exception.

He gritted his teeth against the pain, kicking and writhing in the deadly embrace. Not only was the pain unbearable but the man smelled like old cheese and unwashed socks. In desperation he slammed his small head into the man's mouth, lacerating his scalp on his antagonist's teeth. In the split second that the man howled and loosened his grip, Harry managed to draw his wand and hiss 'Reducto'. The fat Death Eater's head exploded in a shower of brains and blood. Released from the grip, Harry slid painfully onto the floor beside his headless foe.

He'd been set up, and from the looks of things he'd been betrayed by somebody inside MI-5. Knowing that time was of the essence, Harry staggered to his feet and Vanished the rapidly cooling body and the large puddle of blood underneath it. Only the cracked sinks and shattered johns remained as evidence. He forced himself towards the office of Agent Macnair.

After an agonizing eternity Harry found himself at the office door. He quickly slipped a 'kipper' between his thumb and forefinger. Harry flung the door open and stared painfully at his trainer, mentor and friend. He searched the man's features, trying to discern why his superior betrayed him.

"Ah, young Potter… I see you've made your first kill. Don't worry, it gets easier the second –"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Numbly, Harry walked away, leaving the rapidly cooling body sitting behind the desk.

o/' Bond trumpet riff o/'

He walked into M's office without asking permission. As he opened the door he heard his uncle yelling, "-that's bloody ridiculous! M, he's just a boy! He's not even eleven yet for Christ's sake! What were you thinking?"

"Mr. Bond that is enough," M stated calmly. "We know we have a leak and unfortunately Harry has the best chance of finding our rat." Her voice softened. "I know you are worried about the lad but we don't have a choice. I'm afraid Mr. Potter is going to face –"

Harry coughed, announcing his presence. M and Bond stared at Harry's torn clothing, battered face, bruised arms clutching his ribs and his cold, hollow eyes. "It was Macnair," he said flatly.

M stared straight at Harry with stern eyes. Harry returned her gaze without flinching. "I assume the matter is dealt with?" She asked in an emotionless voice.

Harry nodded. "Mr. Macnair is in his office right now. I feel the need for some R&R. Good day, M, Uncle," Harry said emotionlessly. He turned to leave the office without asking.

"Agent Potter," M said in commanding tones. Harry froze without turning to face her. "Good work." Harry nodded once and walked out the door. M turned to Bond. "Give him a little time, James. You remember how it was your first time." Bond sighed and gave her a small nod.


Harry arrived at Platform Nine and Three Quarters via portkey hours before the crowds. His 'Uncle' wasn't overly pleased with the idea of letting Harry board the train alone but M assured Bond that it was the best course. The previous day Q outfitted Harry with all of his school supplies, including some useful extras whipped up by the R&W department. "It still bothers me that I can't give you any of my toys," Q whined to Harry, "but I suppose it's for the best if they won't work at Hogwarts. Do you remember how to set off C-4 when electronics don't work?" Harry nodded. "Oh good! Well, head over to the door that only you class-W types can see and let them equip you properly." Harry nodded after giving his favorite old man a great big hug. Q blushed at the gentle teasing of his assistants. "Oh get back to work you lot," Q halfheartedly chided as Harry left to gather the rest of his gear. Harry didn't need to pick up a wand, of course, as he'd had several custom-designed by the R&W department. "A Wizard's best friend is a good wand," the shadowy tech had said, "and for Agent 007's nephew only the best will suffice." Needless to say, Harry had backup wands for his backup wands stashed throughout his luggage and his person. He preferred his holly-and-phoenix feather wand over all the rest.

Harry decided immediately that portkey travel was distinctly unpleasant. Swallowing back vomit he scanned the platform for threats. The only dangerous individual was a startled auror, who quickly recognized the student and waved him towards the train. Harry nodded to the man and easily carted his trunk onto the Hogwarts Express. He'd wanted an owl but his Uncle explained all of the different methods both magical and muggle an owl could be traced. Harry grumbled but couldn't disagree. He decided to leave off purchasing a pet until better options became available. Ignoring the gaping conductor, Harry meandered through the train cars until he found a nondescript compartment located in a car halfway to the caboose. Harry stowed his gear in an overhead cubby and sat down to read. He'd found quite a bit of enjoyment perusing the delightful bit of fiction known as Hogwarts, a History. Oddly enough, M had been the one to fill Harry in on the many and varied nuances of Hogwarts thousand year history. While Harry found a certain terrified comfort at the idea that M knew practically everything about practically everything, her easy familiarity with this particular bit of information left him oddly suspicious.


"Excuse me; all of the other compartments are taken. May I…" A familiar voice broke Harry's concentration. "You," the intruder spat out. Harry looked up to see his nemesis, The Bushy-Haired Setback standing in the doorway. She calmly entered the compartment, closed the door, stowed her trunk and then launched herself at him. The pair began fighting in earnest, each showing the other their early mastery of martial arts.


Ron walked around the train desperately searching for a place to sit. He tested one of the doors, and after finding it unlocked he pushed it open only to have the door forcefully slammed shut. He shook his hand. 'Bloody rude,' he thought, 'bloody well should have locked the door.'


Harry staggered back to his feet from The Bushy-Haired Setback's expert body-slam into the door. He threw a knuckle-punch, catching her in her sternum and forcing her to fall back as she caught her breath. Pressing the advantage Harry was about to launch a devastating axe-kick to her head when he heard a knock at the door. Instantly the two straightened their clothing while flinging themselves into opposite seats. They glared at each other while the door opened.

A blond boy in high quality robes stood in the doorway, flanked by two dense looking goons. "I heard that Harry Potter was on the train," he drawled as he glanced around the compartment. His eyes settled on the female, "but he's obviously not here. He certainly would show better… taste… in traveling companions."

"You've got that right," Harry sniggered drawing a baleful glare from The Bushy-Haired Setback.

Blondie grinned. "You and I should become close friends. The name's Draco Malfoy," he drawled, "and I see you have the appropriate opinion about the worth of," Draco spat out the word with venom, "mudbloods –" Malfoy found his sentence interrupted by Harry's fist reorganizing the delicate structure of Draco's nose, knocking the blond-haired git flat on his back. The goons were too surprised to move.

Harry stood over Draco, wand pointed straight at his heart. "You should re-evaluate your opinions," Harry said in an emotionless voice. "People who talk that way have a tendency to suffer… accidents. Not that I mind, of course, as people like you are the reason why I lost my parents." The tip of his wand glowed green.

Draco whimpered and scuttled back. He gathered himself back together and glared at his goons, who quickly helped Draco to his feet. Sneering, Draco asked, "And who are you to strike a scion of The Most Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy."

Harry stared straight through Draco, sending cold spikes into his slimy little stomach. "The name's Potter. Harry Potter."


Harry was quite displeased. After he and the Bushy-Haired Setback decided on a temporary truce, he'd rather desired to leave her company. Unfortunately, he found himself stuck on a rickety boat with her, a red-headed boy, and a nervous looking chap. Harry ignored their attempts at conversation while he glared at the girl, the two of them fighting down the urge to drown the other. After a long ride through a dark tunnel, they arrived at a great chamber. The four disembarked and moved to join the rest of the new students. Harry started when he heard a stern voice call out, "First years, this way!"

'No, it couldn't be…' he thought. He looked at the speaker. The voice belonged to a frightfully stern woman dressed in black robes and a pointy hat. A pair of old fashioned spectacles perched on her nose and she favored the students with a strict stare. 'M?' Harry thought wildly, desperately concealing his surprise.

"My name is Minerva McGonagall," the stern woman said, "and I am the Assistant Headmistress and Transfiguration professor here at Hogwarts. It is time for your Sorting. You will be placed in one of the four houses of Hogwarts, and your housemates will become your family for the next seven years. Good behavior and prudent study will earn your house points; Poor behavior will cost you house points and earn you detentions. The house with the most points will win the house cup at the end of the year, so you had best behave and represent your fellow students! Now, form two lines and follow me."

In his shock, Harry didn't notice that he was forced next to the Bushy-Haired Setback in line. Her grumbling quickly brought him back to his unpleasant present. 'I bet that nasty bitch is going to wind up in Slytherin,' he thought vengefully.

Professor McGonagall lead the students into the Great Hall. He absently noted the impressive charms work done to the ceiling, remembering to gape in astonishment. He felt a tiny bit impressed by his brown-eyed nemesis as she pulled off the same deception. Unfortunately, he wound up sitting next to her at the Sorting table. They subtly glared at each other during the Headmaster's speech. He blinked when the Headmistress brought out a ratty old hat and placed it on a stool. He blinked again when said head-wear formed a face out of wrinkles and sang a silly song. After the song ended, McGonagall stood up holding a length of parchment.

"When your name is called, sit on the stool and wear the hat. It will sort you into your new House."

The red-headed boy whispered to the pudgy, nervous lad beside him. "That's it? All we have to do is wear a hat? My brothers told me we'd have to wrestle a troll…"

Harry smiled to himself. He'd had to do worse than that during basic training. One by one the children at the table stood up when their names were called. Harry busied himself burning their faces and names into his memory. Each time a name was called, the student in question put the hat on their head, a House was called out and the student went to their new House's table while their Housemates applauded.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Harry couldn't help smiling when the evil girl stood up and confidently walked to the stool. 'Finally,' Harry thought maliciously, 'I've got her name. Even if it's an alias it'll help my Uncle nail those bastards!' He snorted internally. 'Hermione indeed. She's no flower, that's for sure.'

"Slyth-hackcoughcoughhackcough-Gryffindor!" The Great Hall fell into a stunned silence. Hermione primly removed the hat (Harry noted that she smacked it a few times, pretending to dust it off, while putting it down), and walked confidently to the Gryffindor table despite the silence. Finally, the stunned lions gave her a polite round of applause. After a few more seconds, McGonagall continued calling names and the hat continued sorting students.

"Potter, Harry!"

The Great Hall erupted into shouts and applause as Harry stood up and walked towards the rickety stool. Without waiting for the noise to calm down, he picked up the hat, plopped himself on the stool, and dropped the hat onto his head.

He almost jumped off the stool when he heard a voice in his head.

Merlin's beard there's another one?

'Erm, excuse me, I'm assuming you are the Sorting Hat?' Harry thought.

As quick on the uptake, too. Well, lets take a better look here. Hmmm… yes, you definitely belong in Slytherin. Lots of cunning, not as much ambition but there's a enough.

'Give me one good reason why I shouldn't burn you right now. There's things in this head I'd given my oath to die before revealing.'

Eeep! I can see that. Don't worry, Harry, I'm magically bound to keep the students' confidence, even from the Headmaster. So you are protective of your secrets as well? Slytherin it is!

"Slyth-"

'NO!'

"-hackcoughhack-"

Why?

"-hackcough-"

'Two words: Collateral Damage.'

Then just like the girl before, it'd better be "-Gryffindor!"

Harry took off the hat and stood up. Deciding Ms. Granger had the right idea he "dusted off" the bloody thing for a few seconds before making his way to his table. He growled in frustration as yet again the only available seats were next to Hermione. He plopped down, ignoring her grimace. Finally, a pair of identical red-heads shouted out, "We've got Potter, We've got Potter!" The silence broken, the stunned Gryffindors erupted into cheers, while the twins danced merrily. After a few moments Professor McGonagall cleared her throat quickly silencing the table and the sortings continued. After the last student found his table (Slytherin), the Headmaster gave a brief (and loaded, Harry noted) speech. The students ate, introducing themselves. Harry and Hermione ate while glaring at each other, cautiously watching for any signs of violence or trickery.

"You two know each other or something?" Ron Weasley asked in-between mouthfuls.

"Yes," Harry and Hermione spat at the same time, causing their glares to deepen.

"Um, right then… I'll just leave you two be."

All too soon, the feast vanished and the Headmaster read off a few rules. The four heads of house stood and asked the prefects to lead the new students to the dorms. Harry didn't know if he was happy or upset that M was his boss at school as well as during vacation. 'Can't be helped,' he mused following the other students, 'she's bloody everywhere.'


Harry's first class was Transfiguration. He idly noted a vaguely familiar gray and black cat sitting on a stool. He promptly sat down in a chair at the front of the class, as befitted his cover as a studious pupil. He swallowed a grimace when Hermione moved to take the only other seat available in the front, the one right next to him. He couldn't help but admire how adeptly she pulled off the innocent 'know-it-all' routine.

"So, think the professor skived off on us?" A student whispered somewhere from the back. The cat flicked its ear in the direction of the comment, hopped gracefully from the stool, and morphed into Professor McGonagall. 'Well that bloody well explains why she's so bloody good at knowing things that aren't on reports,' Harry thought, remembering the informally adopted feline at headquarters.

The professor stared sternly at the blushing student. "Welcome to transfigurations. This class involves very complex and dangerous magic that requires the utmost concentration! I will not tolerate," she stared pointedly at Harry, "any foolishness in my classroom." Hermione sniggered under her breath. McGonagall's glare moved to the bushy-haired girl. "If I think any of you are putting another student at risk," she said while Hermione fidgeted under the gaze, "you will find yourselves expelled from my classroom and will not be allowed back. Is that understood?" The class murmured their acquiescence. Harry felt a little sympathy for his nemesis. He'd been under that glare and knew how horrifically unsettling it could be. "Excellent. Today you will transform matchsticks into needles."

Harry and Hermione earned five points each as they succeeded the transformation on their first attempt. Harry had learned transfiguration quite early due to its extraordinary usefulness on the field. He assumed Hermione knew how because it dramatically lowered the costs involved in her sadistic and vile plans.

'Actually,' he mused while started on his homework assignment while the rest of the class struggled to complete the transfiguration, 'that bloody well explains how she managed to replace the motel's bathtub with solid sodium coated in a fine layer of talc. Thank Merlin I'd already gotten paranoid from my uncle's little "pranks" around the house.' Subtly, Harry observed her handwriting and other tells out of the corner of his eye. He smothered a grin at the notion that she was most likely doing the same.


Back in the Gryffindor Common Room Ron was bitching about Transfiguration with his stuttering friend. "Really, what's the bloody use learning how to change matchsticks into needles? It's all bollocks anyhow." Ron said, likely due to his inability to accomplish more than turning his matchstick a bit shinier. Neville nodded in agreement, as he'd only barely managed to make his pointy but still wooden.

"Honestly, Ron," Harry winced at the bossy tone Hermione used. He'd have much preferred if she'd chosen a less grating cover. It was hard enough controlling the urge to strangle her. "First, you should enjoy learning for learning's sake!" Ron and Neville groaned. Hermione huffed. "Secondly, you can never be sure when a little trick like that might come in handy." Smiling, she snatched up a few bits of paper from the top of the table, waved her wand transforming them into slender metallic blades, and flung them expertly at Harry's eyes. Instinctively he snatched the blades out of the air and flicked his wand transfiguring them back into paper.

"See?" Hermione asked the boys primly. She gave Harry a beaming saccharine smile, turned, and whisked herself up the stairs to the girl's dormitory. She opened the door, entered, and before closing it called out. "You will start your homework now, boys, instead of waiting to the last minute and begging for my help?" Ron and Neville nervously nodded. "Good!" She replied brightly, closing the door.

Ron turned to Harry. "Blimey, mate! That bird is scary! Brilliant, but scary!"

"You have no idea," Harry mumbled under his breath.


Harry made his way to Potions feeling his trepidation growing with each step. He'd been warned by his fellow Gryffindors that the professor, Snape, was outright bigoted against Gryffindors. To make matters worse, he shared the class with both Hermione and the Slytherins. He dreaded the sheer amount of willpower he'd expend keeping himself from killing one of them. A few minutes early, Harry decided that the safest bet lay in taking a seat near the middle of the class, affording himself some safe distance from both the professor and Hermione.

Unfortunately, Hermione decided to ruin half of his plans by choosing the seat next to his own. "Can't violate tradition," she quipped with a fake smile plastered on her face. Harry bit back a groan. One way or another either he or she had been forced to sit or stand next to each other for nearly every class and gathering since they'd arrived at Hogwarts. This tended to shred both of their nerves, and neither could pass up an opportunity to tweak the other.

The rest of the students filed into the classroom. The second that the class was due to start, a greasy-haired man with billowing black robes strode into the classroom. The doors slammed shut the instant his clothing cleared them. Harry resisted smiling as Professor Snape gave a grandiose speech about his profession ending with a childish insult. He'd heard far better introductory rants from his trainers, men and women with far greater flair for dramatics.

"I see we have a new celebrity," Snape sneered staring at Harry, "I wonder if he's as brilliant as they say." Harry swallowed his growing irritation at the man's pathetic pettiness as Snape belted out a question from the last chapter of the textbook. Hermione, of course, waved her hand frantically in the air, practically bouncing. Snape ignored her, glaring about the class. He then proceeded to ask an OWL level and NEWT level question, with the same results. After around twenty seconds of silent sneering, he stared at Harry. "So, Potter, I see you are as ignorant as your father."

Harry looked at Snape with innocent eyes. "I'm sorry sir," he said, "I have no idea how ignorant my father is considering how he was murdered by a pathetic sniveling waste of flesh who had the audacity to consider itself a Dark Lord." He smiled inside as he heard the Slytherins his while he insulted Voldemort. "I do know the answer to the question, but since Ms. Granger wanted to demonstrate her exceptional lack of social acumen," he said causing Snape to raise an eyebrow and Hermione to flush, "I'd give her the opportunity. The answers are, as follows: In the stomach of a goat, the same thing, and The Draught of Living Death. Would you mind terribly, sir, telling me about my father? I mean, I haven't had the opportunity to learn anything about him because a cowardly worthless wretch, a wretch whose greatest joy in life was buggering small boys while consuming mounds of excrement, decided somewhere in the syphilitic skrewt scrotum he used as a mind to kill my parents."

Snape hissed, enraged. "Mr. Potter, fifty points from Gryffindor and a week's worth of detentions!" Harry saw Hermione stiffen beside him.

Harry smiled while he mentally added Snape to his 'to-do' list. "Sir, are you punishing me because I insulted that bottom-feeding inbred pile of slug dung Voldemort? Does the Headmaster approve of your clear support for an enemy of the State?"

Snape seethed. "No Mr. Potter, it's for cheek."

Hermione let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, that's good sir. For a while I was afraid that you were deliberately supporting the veneration of a wizard so impotent and infantile that he met his end whilst committing an act both deplorable and outrageously pathetic."

"Fifty points from Gryffindor and a week of detention for you as well, Granger!"

Harry and Hermione beamed happily at the raging professor. "Yes Professor Snape," they replied at the same time.

First Snape glared at Harry. He felt the familiar tingles and happily cluttered his surface thoughts with potions minutia and scathing insults towards Voldemort. The professor shifted his eyes towards Hermione.

Her smile widened. "You know, professor, that according to the Lockburn-Hart convention of 1924, unauthorized Legilimency is illegal in all the member countries of the ICW. Act 43 subsection a and e allow the victim to retaliate in any manner he or she finds fit, baring the Unforgivables, as well as naming a simple method of proving the attack." Hermione lifted her wand slightly. "This method, of course, can be used for up to two days after the attack due to lingering magical traces, and causes a very distinct and easily recognizable effect on the attacker. Now, I'm certain that you now the spell can be used by even the weakest of students, and is cast by –"

Turning paler than an exsanguinated corpse, Snape cut her off. "That's quite enough, Ms. Granger!"

"Are you certain?" She asked, acting the very picture of innocent studiousness. "I mean it is a very valuable defense, especially considering how many talented and dangerous supporters of Lord Scrotum-wart there are."

Harry forgave Hermione at least half of the attempts on his life. They were worth watching this sorry bastard squirm. He could feel the gears grinding in his professor's head.

"Well, I see you don't object," Hermione said with a smile. "Ereptorum Animatum Castratae Est!" Blue haloes appeared about Harry and Hermione's head while the potions professor fell screaming in a painfully high-pitched tone while grabbing at his bleeding crotch. He rolled about, flickering with a sickly yellow glow.

"Oh dear," Hermione said, "I don't suppose that means class is cancelled?"

"Bloody Hell!" Ron exclaimed.


Later that night Hermione walked into the Gryffindor Common room wearing a triumphant smile. Harry knew she'd been in the Headmaster's office for hours, as Professor McGonagall suggested that the two meet with Dumbledore separately. She, of course, was present to act as an informal solicitor for Ms. Granger's benefit.

"So, how'd it go?" Harry asked. He might despise her with righteous fury, but at least on the matter of Snape he found himself oddly appreciative of her devilish cunning. He'd been the target of it for so long that he found it oddly inspirational watching some other poor sod suffer.

"Oh, well, Professor Snape is still teaching and Head of Slytherin," she replied evenly. Harry drew in a breath. "The points and detentions still stand as well."

Harry narrowed his eyes. Snape just moved to the top of his 'to-do' list, followed by the Headmaster. Then he noticed Hermione's smile became just a little bit evil.

"Of course, the Headmaster assured me that neither he nor Snape supported Scrotum-wart. In an act of good faith, I agreed to reserve judgment and observe how equitably Snape treats students both within and without his house."

"And if you find their assurances lacking?" Harry asked.

Hermione's smile widened. "Then I believe you and I will put our differences aside for a while to ensure a properly legal and academic solution is found?"

Harry returned her smile and nodded.


The next few months passed uneventfully for Harry. Sure, Draco had been a prat and caused a little escape which resulted in Harry becoming the youngest Seeker in Hogwarts history. Sure, his dad happily mailed him a new broom fresh out of R&W… an Aston-Merlin Yggdrasil. Sure, he and Hermione happily practiced an escalating battle of on-upsmanship in the classroom and dormitory that would become legendary. Still, all-in-all it was almost a pleasant vacation.

The relative normalcy was shattered on October thirty-first. It began in Charms. Hermione smugly demonstrated her superiority yet again, this time by mastering Wingardium Leviosa on the first attempt and then 'accidentally' levitating Harry's inkpot and 'accidentally' spilling it over his robes.

Harry narrowed his eyes at Hermione's innocent smile. "Wingardium Leviosa," he cast with his wand pointing at the feather. Hermione's smile faltered as the front of her robes quickly flipped up and fluttered down. She hissed and spat at him while frantically making sure that nobody else saw what happened. Mollified that the embarrassment went undetected she turned back to Harry. "What did you see?" She asked angrily.

"Hello Kitty," he replied with an evil grin.

She took a step forward, moving so her face was inches from Harry's. "You. Me. After class. We finish this," she hissed.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Harry said with a smirk.

Class ended and Hermione stalked out followed by a smug Potter.


Professor Quirrel dashed into the Great Hall. "There's a Troll in the dungeon!" He promptly fainted face first into the floor. The students erupted into panic. Professor McGonagall's voice cut through the noise. "Silence! Prefects, gather the students and lead them to their Common Rooms! We will conduct a head count there. Nobody panic, the situation will be resolved shortly."

Ron turned to Neville. "Have you seen Harry?" He asked. Neville shrugged.

"I haven't seen Hermione or Harry since charms."


Graag was typical for his species, dumb, hungry and perpetually cranky. The nasty garlic-smelling man commanded him to walk about and smash any little humans he saw. Graag didn't mind smashings. Graag was actually quite fond of smashings. Graag lumbered slowly through the stone corridors looking for appropriately squishy things to smash.

The sound of screaming and crashings caught Graag's attention. He tromped towards the noise. It came from behind a door. Graag bashed in the door. Graag immediate stopped and watched as two fast moving small squishy human things threw many many bolts of pretty hurting lights at each other. Graag noticed that the room was filled with lots of broken things.

Now, it's a well known fact that Trolls are notoriously tough as well as notoriously stupid. What isn't as well known is the fact that Trolls also possess a sense of self-preservation that matches their toughness and far outweighs their lack of intelligence. Troll trainers make great use of this trait in order to keep their charges in line. Graag was by no means an atypical member of his species.

Graag watched the little masters play with each other. Graag sure as hell wasn't stepping in between them. Graag didn't want to end up like the sink he just watch blow up into lots of sharp pointy bits. Eventually, Graag heard big squishies running his way. Stinky thin squishy told Graag tall squishy would smash Graag.

Graag didn't like being smashed. Graag decided to ask little angry masters to help. Graag stood up and coughed politely to get their attention.

Hermione paused mid-spell to find the origin of the enormous cough. Her eyes widened as she noticed a Troll standing there looking at her and Harry expectantly. She was about to say something when McGonagall, Snape and Dumbledore burst through the ruined doorway.

"What… who… why are you here?" Professor Snape demanded. Hermione's mind blanked.

"Hermione and I were caught up in a deep conversation about Dynus' Law of Transfigured Potions ingredients when we noticed a troll in the hallways." Harry jumped in, explaining the situation calmly. "It chased us in here, sir, and Hermione came up with the brilliant plan to fool it into accepting her as its master in order to prevent it from harming the other students." Harry's voice stayed calm and even, despite the exertions he'd been through. "Unfortunately, the bathroom was ruined but I dare say that's better than any of our classmates getting injured. The troll here was just about to tell Hermione its name and bow to here when you rushed in." He looked at her pointedly.

Hermione walked up to the filthy troll confidently. "Name!" she belted out. The troll smiled toothily.

"Graag!"

"Kneel!" She commanded.

Graag kneeled down happily. Graag had a master who was very smashy and breaky. Graag had never felt happier. Graag looked at her with big watery cow eyes. Hermione instantly fell in love.

"It's so cute!" She squealed, oblivious to the shudders of the other four.

Minerva coughed. "Well then… good thinking I suppose. Ms. Granger… Graag… come with me. We need to fill out the appropriate paperwork to register Graag as your minion."

Hermione skipped happily after McGonagall, followed by the ponderous footsteps of her brand new troll.

Snape glared at Harry. "Tell me boy, why did the hat put you in Gryffindor instead of Slytherin?"

Harry shrugged, feeling magnanimous. "Body count, sir."

Snape nodded. "I'd suspected as much. I still loath you; just so you know."

"The feeling is mutual, I assure you," Harry replied.

Dumbledore coughed. "Well, I'm glad that you two finally agree on something. Mr. Potter, would you please return to the Gryffindor common room? I'm sure your classmates are worried. Severus, go get that leg taken care of while I fix up this mess."

Harry and Severus nodded to the headmaster, and went off their separate ways.

o/' Bond trumpet riff o/'

Harry waited in the Common Room for Hermione's return. He needed to let her know that he considered their last little match a draw, and he itched for a rematch. A few hours later she bounced happily into the room. He stood up and fixed her with his deadliest glare. Oblivious, Hermione tackled Harry in a full-body hug. Shocked, he froze under her firm embrace.

"Oh Harry, you got me my very own minion!" Hermione gushed into his ear. "I didn't know you cared." She kissed him on the cheek, hard, and then skipped up the stairs to her dorm.

Harry stood frozen in shock until Ron finally asked the question, "What the bloody hell was that all about?"

"I have no idea," Harry replied.

"So, mate, you got yourself a new girlfriend?" Ron taunted.

"Ron, if you value your life you will never speak of this again."

Ron gulped and nodded. The two of them were absolutely starkers, and bloody scary at that.


The rest of the year passed by in a pleasant blur. He'd stayed behind at Hogwarts for Christmas, but not before planting a number of clever tracking devices throughout Hermione's possessions both magical and mundane. He got a number of presents, including a fancy new watch from Q which came with an encrypted letter explaining all the new toys R&W packed into it. He also got a bomb from Hermione, which he'd disarmed before it could blow up the dorm. Inside, he found every single tracking device along with a nice letter and some chocolates. He smiled. He'd sent Hermione the exact same present, only with more chocolates and a bigger bomb, and he hoped she hadn't been as adept with demolitions. Strangely enough, somebody sent him an anonymous gift containing an Invisibility cloak. After finding out that it had belonged to his father, he placed it reverently in his trunk next to his other three similar cloaks.

Never hurts to have a backup for the backups.

He was only slightly disappointed to see Hermione return unharmed. She thanked him for his thoughtful gifts and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Feeling immediately light-headed, Harry dashed to the bathroom to analyze the toxins in her lip gloss and quickly injected the antidotes into his bloodstream.

The next couple weeks passed by as uneventfully, except Hermione's attempts on his life grew less angry and more… flirtatious, albeit no less deadly. Finally, his first Quidditch match against Slytherin arrived. Harry easily outclassed the other students on his experimental broom and was happily leading the opposing chaser on a death-defying romp when his broom chimed signaling that it detected and was neutralizing an attack. He grinned and winged over too the Gryffindor stands to watch the look on Hermione's face when he activated the countermeasures. With devilish glee he pressed the concealed stud that launched a harmonic counter-hex. He was disappointed when an explosion of purple flames erupted from the Slytherin stands instead of from Hermione. Evidently she saw the disappointment on his face, because she waved happily at him. Absently, Harry snagged the golden ball flitting nearby.

That was such a total letdown.


End of term approached, and that night Harry found himself summoned to McGonagall's office. He quickly made his way there. He knocked, and entered the office when he heard her beckon. He immediately stood at attention when he saw M, rather than her professorial persona.

"Agent Double O Hex, I have received troubling news that an agent of Voldemort will attempt to obtain an artifact known as the Philosopher's Stone. This stone is hidden in the third floor corridor behind many ingenious traps. Your mission is to prevent the stone from falling into the agents hands at all costs. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded.

"Very well. You may leave, and Merlin watch over you. Come back alive, Potter, but do not allow the stone to fall into enemy hands. Do whatever it takes to do both."

Harry turned and left the office. He dashed to his dorm to grab a few more 'kippers' and other useful devices. When he returned to the Common Room fully kitted out, Hermione was standing there waiting for him.

"It's after curfew," she stated calmly.

"That it is. I have to go now," Harry replied.

"I'm coming with you."

"No, you aren't."

"If you try to leave without me, I'll stop you. I won't let you cost us the House Cup," she said with a gleam in her eyes.

"Fine, whatever. It's not like you can't handle yourself in a fight." Harry clicked his watch activating the advanced disillusionment field. Hermione grinned and tapped her earrings and faded from view. The pair snuck their way past Filch and Mrs. Norris, around Snape and Peeves, until they found themselves at the objective doorway. Deactivating the charm, Harry motioned towards the door. Hermione faded into view and tested it.

"Locked," she said quietly. "I've got this one." She pulled out her wand and silently waved it at the wooden door. It opened noiselessly. The pair crept into the open doorway. A harp hung in midair, softly playing a song. A giant three-headed dog snoozed contentedly.

"Looks like we've got company," Hermione said with a whisper. "There's a trapdoor. I suppose we go down?"

Harry nodded and flipped open the latch. He bowed. "Lady's first."

Hermione sniffed. "You'd send a harmless girl ahead into the dark depths unprotected?"

"Harmless my arse," Harry muttered as he jumped into the hole. He landed on a soft patch of rope. He scanned the room. It was empty except for a single door. "Clear," he said. Hermione jumped down and landed slightly to the right of him. When they tried to walk to the door, the ropes leapt up and wrapped themselves tightly about their bodies.

"Bloody devil's snare!" Harry cursed.

Hermione grinned. "Harry, didn't you read the Herbology textbook? Devil's Snare hates heat and light!" She cackled maniacally. "I've got this one! Incindeourum Maximus Con Solarum Quorum Es!"

An explosion of heat and light burst from her wand incinerating the hapless plant where it lay. Harry chuckled. "Didn't you use that one on me in Burma?"

Hermione nodded happily. "After you!"

Harry opened the next door. The doorway lead to a large room with a high, vaulted ceiling. Flitting about in the air there appeared to a large number of birds. Harry noticed a door with a thick lock on the opposite end. Next to the door, somebody had carelessly propped a broom.

"Hmm… looks like you are supposed to fly up and get the key," Hermione mused.

"Bah… No time for silly games. Stand back." Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of yellow clay rope. He quickly unwound a length of it and expertly molded the rope around the gap where the door met the jam. He ran back and pulled Hermione into the previous room. "Stand here. He poked his wand out towards the doorway. "Succendo!" A blue arc flew from his wand to the bottom of the rope. With a cataclysmic explosion, the door shattered into splinters.

Hermione smiled. "Impressive Mr. Potter. I see you've devised a way to make modern explosives viable in a high-magic environment. Of course, I worked that out years ago…"

"Whatever. Shall we see the next obstacle?"

Hermione smiled and strolled casually through the open doorway, gingerly avoiding the larger bits of wood.

The floor was laid out in a giant checker-board manner, with alternating black and white squares. Harry noted the man-sized statues arrayed about, approximating a life-sized chess set. "This… could be a problem," Harry muttered, noticing the black king baring the path to the next door. Hermione nodded mutely beside him, her teeth worrying her lower lip. Distantly, Harry was struck by how utterly adorable she appeared at that moment. He ruthlessly squashed that thought down, then stamped on it, incinerated it, and consigned the ashes to the depths of his subconscious just to be safe.

"When do you suppose these things will animate and attempt to kill us?" Harry asked her, desperate to change his train of thought.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. "I'd say when we step into the room."

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Harry asked with a wicked smile.

"Maybe. But where are we going to get our hands on a baker's dozen hand-grenades?"

"A proper gentleman is prepared for any circumstances." He reached into his robes and pulled out a tiny box.

"You didn't…" Hermione said in an awed whisper.

Harry waved his wand, enlarging the box until it was the size of a small crate. After lightly tapping his wand against the lid, he opened the box revealing its contents. Hermione squealed with excitement.

"Oh Harry, you certainly know how to show a lady a good time," she said as she picked up one of the American Military Standard pineapples. Her eyes glittered with mirth and mischief.

"I am the life of the party, aren't I," he quipped back cockily.

"So, is it pull the pin, count to five, and throw, or is it pull the pin, count to three, and throw?" She asked innocently.

"As if you didn't already know. How about pull the pin, throw into the room, rinse and repeat until the box is empty and the room is rubble?"

"Ooooh, I like that idea. You take the left side and I take the right?"

"Certainly. Ready?" Harry asked.

"For you? Always." Hermione replied with a saucy wink utterly misplaced on her childlike face.

Harry and Hermione quickly divvied up the contents into two equal piles they placed against the wall next to the doorway. They took up positions on opposite sides each other and grabbed a grenade each. "Careful, these are high explosive fragmentary anti-personnel munitions. On three," Harry said, "one, two, three!" Hastily, the pair quickly began filling the room with live grenades and ten seconds after the first pin dropped the staccato roar of explosions echoed inside the chambers.

After the dust settled, Harry looked over at Hermione. She was coated in a thick white blanket. "Think that did the trick?" He asked.

Hermione peered into the room. "I don't see anything standing."

"Oh, good then. Shall we see what our next diversion is going to be?" He offered her his hand. She took it and let him help her to her feet, then placed her hand into the crook of his arm.

"But of course. Lead on."

Side by side, they crunched across the scattered rubble, taking in the fact that there wasn't a stone larger than a pebble remaining.

"Do you think we might have overdone it a bit, Harry?" Hermione asked lightly.

"Bah, there is no overkill, only kill." Harry replied.

"A man after my own heart," she shot back, laughing lightly. The opened the next door.

"Merlin, what is that stink?" Harry asked.

Hermione pointed to the eviscerated corpse of a large troll. "My guess would be that."

Harry looked at her. "Aren't you worried that's Graag?"

"Oh no, Graag has skin with a slightly lighter shade of green."

"Right. Next!" He opened the next door. The room had two walls of flame, one purple and one black. A riddle was written on the wall. At the same time they said, "That potion goes back, that potion goes forward," while gesturing at the proper bottles. Harry walked over to the set. He noted that the potion he needed to continue only had enough for one swig.

"Looks like I'm going to have to take the rest of this solo," Harry said, showing Hermione the contents. "Go back and get help."

She looked at the bottle and nodded. She looked up at Harry, no longer the maniacal killer or the bossy know-it-all. Instead she looked like a young girl worried about her friend. She chewed on her lower lip and stared at Harry with shimmering eyes. "Look, Harry… just… try not to get yourself killed," as soon as he noticed it, her face returned to normal. "After all, I wouldn't want some petty villain to rob me of the pleasure."

Harry nodded and popped a toothpick into his mouth. Hermione turned to leave, then spun about and gripped him in a tight hug. "Be careful, Harry." She whispered in his ear. Then, without another word, she quaffed a swig of her potion and walked through the flames without looking back.

Harry shook his head. "I will never, ever understand that girl." He readied himself for the worst, drank the last of the potion, and dashed through his flames.

Emerging from the frigid fire, he quickly noted that he was not alone. Standing in front of a gaudy mirror was none other than Professor Quirrel. Harry clapped softly, gaining the garlic-soaked man's attention. "Bravo professor, bravo! I'm ashamed to admit you actually had me fooled with your incompetent act."

Professor Quirrel smiled wickedly. "Ah, Mr. Potter, so good to see you. Get me the stone boy, before I do something dreadful."

"I have no idea what you are talking about. Personally, I thought you'd gone through a great deal of trouble just to stare at your ugly mug. Aren't there mirrors in the faculty bathrooms like the rest of the loos in the school? Wait, don't answer that. Between Snape, Dumbledore's outfits, and your own lack of hygiene I'm going to have to say that's a resounding no."

A voice hissed from the Quirrel's turban. "Let me out to see the boy!"

"But master…" "Now!"

Quirrel shakily unwrapped the turban and turned his back to Potter. Potter swallowed a bit of bile that leapt up his throat when he saw the disgusting face that grew like a sentient tumor. "Ah, Potter, I can see you are a powerful wizard, even at your age… join me and we shall rule the world together."

"Form an alliance with a jabbering clump of acne? I think I'd rather not." Harry replied.

"Fine!" The figure hissed and gestured with Quirrel's wand. Great golden ropes flew out and constricted Harry, cutting off his circulation.

Harry noted that he was in a precarious position. The blow forced his toothpick to jab into his gums. "Lord Voldemort I presume?"

"Yesssss," the face hissed.

"So, I expect you want me to talk?" He asked, wriggling in the painfully tightening binds. They were wrapped around his neck cutting off the flow of blood to his brain.

"No, Mr. Potter, I expect you to die!" The malignant wizard said as he closed in with Harry. Harry could feel his consciousness slipping. The ugly face smiled down at him. "Any last words, Mr. Potter, before I finish your pathetic family for good?"

Harry nodded, having finally worked the toothpick out and pointing at the creature's face. With the last of his breath, he gritted his teeth to keep the toothpick in his mouth. "Avada Kedavra!"

He noted the look of shock on Voldemort's face before the green bolt slammed into the disgusting growth. He vaguely felt the bonds vanish and heard Quirrel's corpse slump to the ground before the black overtook his vision.


Harry woke up three days later. A quick inspection of his surroundings told him that he was convalescing in the hospital ward. He noted the presence of flowers, cards, candies and a motion-activated bomb.

'I see Hermione paid me a visit,' he thought cheerfully as he subtly used a backup wand to disarm and Vanish her trap. 'Easy too, she must have really been worried about me.'

After a humorously uninformative debriefing with Albus and a far more serious discussion with M, Harry returned to his studies and polished off his exams. Respecting the amount of stress facing their fellow students, Harry and Hermione kept their attacks on each other to a minimum, concentrating on humiliating rather than maiming their target. Before he knew it, they were back on board the Hogwarts Express returning to their families.

Of course, circumstances forced them into the same compartment. After another enjoyable melee, the exhausted pair slumped into opposite seats on the compartment benches. Harry noted that the train was rapidly approaching the platform. He grinned. He'd been waiting for this moment all year.

"You know," Harry said casually, "that the moment you step off of this train a team of agents is waiting to pick you up." He grinned maliciously. "In fact, I dare say that your parents have already found pleasant accommodations with our interrogation branch."

Hermione smiled at him sweetly. "Are you so certain of that Harry?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Quite." Suddenly, he realized that he heard the sound of a helicopter over the noise of the train. Hermione stood up and opened the window. To his dismay, a rope ladder dropped and dangled within reach.

Hermione launched herself out of the window and clutched onto the ladder. "See you next semester, Mr. Potter!" She taunted as the ladder flew away. Harry lunged to the ladder and looked out to see her happily waving at him, clinging to the rope as the connected helicopter flew off into the distance.

Harry shook his head as he pulled away from the window. "See you next semester, indeed."


Omake – Two Old Guys At a Bar

Albus and Aberforth were sharing a pint and talking about their lives. The current topic revolved around Albus' acquaintance in the Secret Service.

"I tell you, brother, it's absolutely shocking how much Minnie and M look alike!" Albus said.

Aberforth nodded. "Well, you know how those spy types have managed to infiltrate everything. How do you know that Minnie isn't M?"

"Oh, I'm positive that they are two different people," Albus replied.

"How can you be so sure," Aberforth shot back.

"Minnie wears glasses, and M doesn't."

Aberforth thought for a moment. "Well, what if she took the glasses off?"

Albus scoffed. "Preposterous! How could she see if she wasn't wearing her glasses? They are two different, albeit identical, people"

The headmaster's brother nodded. "True, true."


A\N: Wow, this story got a lot more feedback than I'd expected, and far faster than I'd hoped. Thank you for all of your reviews!

A quick note: I occurred to me that I'd recently run across a story with Hermione as a 'pulp villain' in one of Clell65619's stories. I will say that I'd had the idea for this particular fiction for years, but in order to avoid any suspicions or hard feelings I'd like to give a great big hat-tip his/her way.