AN: Sorry for the wait, guys. I was busy with finals and all, and I was stumped with this story for quite a while. I finally managed to sit down and write, and I hope this satisfies you. If I made any glaring mistakes, or if you don't agree with something, feel free to PM me! Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything.

I walked down the office hallway, pissed and showing it. I made it a note to glare at every innocent bystander unlucky enough to get in my way. I must've made quite a scene: A tall, angry man wearing a large duster and wielding a hefty staff with a serious glare stalking down the hall. People avoided me like the plague.

"Hello, my host…" a seductive, female voice crooned in my head.

Speaking of painful diseases…

"My, my, Harry. This new arrival has gotten you into quite a rampage." Lasciel whispered in an almost gossipy tone.

Lasciel, a.k.a Lash, was the current resident fallen angel booking a room in Hotel Dresden. I had gotten her after a two-thousand-year-old lunatic flipped a coin bearing Lasciel towards my friend's youngest son. Before he could get his grubby little toddler hands on it, I had jumped and snatched it away. Sure, I had acquired a voluptuous yet annoying partner fiddling around in my head, but the thought of her lurking in little Harry's head always sent shivers down my spine. Needless to say, I was more or less content with outcome. Right now, she was just a mere shadow of her real self embedded in the coin a few feet under my basement floor, but she was still dangerous.

"What is it now, Lash?" I grumbled under my breath. No use scaring more people by slurring loudly to myself. "If you want me to take up the coin, don't bother."

"Sadly, no," she answered as I entered the mail room and browsed through my little cubby. "However, the offer remains."

I exhaled through my nose.

"All right, all right. I concede. On another note-"

"Thank God."

"On another note," she repeated. I could hear the slight irked tone in her voice. "This Harry Potter character is quite an enigma, you might be thinking. Oh, if there was only some eternal being with the knowledge of almost everything magical in the mortal demesne that could help you solve this mystery…"

"Of course!" I exclaimed. "Bob could definitely help me with this! Thank you, Lash!"

I felt a painful jab somewhere inside my brain. I bit my lip, the pain almost unbearable.

"Sheesh, you're grumpy today."

"You seem to forget that I am a being that watched your kind form from the revolting soil by Hands that you did not deserve. Sometimes I tire of your constant lip."

I was silent for a moment. I once more traversed the hall, storming up the steps that lead to my office. I stopped at the door and leaned against the wall patiently.

I grunted. "Okay, what do you have for me?"

"The wand that this man withdrew from his pocket was of an ancient and foreign make, crafted by those of a different association than your White Council."

"Woah, woah, hold on a second." I sputtered. "Are you saying that there's a whole different branch of wizardry different from the White Council!"

Hell's bells. What Lasciel was saying meant that everything that has ever been taught by the White Council concerning the position of itself as the sole authority on magic was false. The information sent my jaw hanging.

"Buh, buh, buh, wah!" I articulated quite eloquently.

"How incompetent. If you do not believe me, ask your newfound friend. He is just about to wake, anyways."

I perked up, my shock dissipated. "Wait, why so soon? I still have to make my calls first."

"Oh, boo-hoo, Dresden. I think that can wait. Now, go along."

I sighed, muttered a few pleasant curses, and opened the door. I found Murphy standing beside our guest, the muzzle of her double-barreled shotgun pressed against his ribs. His back was facing me, and he struggled to twist in the bindings the sergeant had imposed upon him.

"Ah, Dresden," he gritted. "You're here. Untie me, please."

"Not so fast, Churchill. I want to ask you a few questions first." I walked to my desk and gulped down a swig of a coffee mug Karrin had so nicely provided. "And I think it would suit you better if you answered them truthfully."

His green eyes blazed, and he fixed me a glare.

"Look, I do not have time for this-" he began.

"I do. Now, question one. What kind of half-assed spell did you pull on my coffee mug a few minutes ago?"

He furrowed his brow. "A transfiguration spell," he explained, a hint of impatience in his tone. "I'm sorry, I need you to guide me to your council of leaders right away. We have important matters to discuss."

"Discuss them right here. Trust me, I'm a good listener."

Murphy snorted.

Potter made an annoyed sound in his throat, and he wriggled in the chair. "My employers have arranged a meeting with your White Council at noon today, Mr. Dresden. I believe they are here at Chicago already, and having your superiors know about your delay of my arrival would be most unpleasant."

I shrugged. "Honestly, I don't give a rat's ass about what the Merlin and his cronies think of me. So, I'd start singing if I were you, or things could go badly."

He stared at me with wide eyes. Murphy fidgeted uncomfortably and looked at me.

"Harry, just let him go. He's an honest man, and I don't get the big deal with keeping him here. Sure, he did some whacky spell, but there's no need to truss him up like he's cattle."

I leered at her. "That wasn't some 'whacky spell', Karrin. It takes a great deal of magic to morph a totally inanimate, dead object into a living being with a flick of a wand. Frankly, I've never seen anything like it. So, I want to know what the hell it was, and I want to know now."

"Well, Dresden," Murphy replied patiently. "Won't it be better to bring him to the Merlin so he can explain what he did to the whole White Council?"

I exhaled sharply, resisting the urge to fry the Brit's ass where he sat. He seemed to read my feelings, looking intently into my eyes. I looked away before a soulgaze could occur. He smiled.

Cheeky bastard.

"Fine," I scoffed, bottling up my pent up rage. "Fine, I'll take you to the Council. To be honest, I had no idea they were gathering here today, but I know the regular place. Sergeant Murphy, if you will."

She untied Potter, her shotgun dropping down a fraction. The visitor stood, flexing his wrists and arms. He stretched, a half-smile etched on his face. I bet he was a killer with the ladies.

"Now," Potter sighed, cracking his neck twice. "Let's get going, shall we?"

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

The wizard/investigator had parted ways with Murphy as they lead Harry down the office complex. She had to return with the Muggle police department to consult some recent affairs. Plus, evidently, mortals were not allowed to visit the designated meeting place without consent from the Senior Council. Harry followed the other wizard cautiously, out of the building and into a dirty parking space. Dresden kept looking back and forth, his shrewd eyes checking every corner and each shadow as if it held potential enemies. Harry knew those actions well; he had once done them in the past during the days with Voldemort. Harry Dresden had the aura of a man under fire. He was someone who knew little peace in his world, and had enemies literally lurking around every corner. His broad shoulders were hunched, and his gait stiff. The taller wizard paused and glared back at him.

"Going too fast for you, man? C'mon, catch up."

Harry arched an eyebrow. Dresden probably didn't know what he was doing at the moment. It was as if those movements had grown instinctive. Harry was both anxious and impressed. The man had, obviously, a lot of experience, but he also had a bucket load of enemies. The auror began to get the impression that traveling with Harry Dresden wasn't always the safest thing to do.

The pair stopped at a blue Volkswagen Beetle parked between two large SUVs. It looked battered and beaten, as if it had been rolled down the side of a very tall, rocky mountain.

Harry stared at Dresden for a moment. The wizard/investigator looked back at him and grunted.

"What?"

"You mean to tell me that we will be traveling in this tiny, light, abused little thing?" the auror asked incredulously. "Surely you're joking."

"Hey, don't talk like that. You might hurt its feelings."

Harry's eyebrows skyrocketed.

"Get in the damn car already, okay?"

Potter complied, opening the passenger door and crouching inside. The interior had obviously gone through dozens of repairs throughout the years. The bucket seats were nigh unbearable, and the thing looked like a machine gun had tore into the whole car. Harry buckled in, feeling very uncomfortable. Dresden noted this and grinned slightly.

"Don't worry," he remarked, starting the engine. It sputtered like an elderly lady suffering from prolonged tuberculosis. "The Blue Beetle is a grizzled old veteran. She'll hold."

"I hope so," Potter commented shakily, his face paling. "I sincerely hope so."

Harry ignored the jibe and pulled out.

They drove in silence for the duration of the trip, each man to his own thoughts. Both were suspicious of the other, plus, they had little to none knowledge of each other's abilities. The air was thick with tension.

They finally stopped at a seemingly abandoned warehouse located at a vacant spot of the city. Dresden parked the car, opened the door, and got out without a word. Potter sighed and did the same.

"So," the auror began. "Where is this White Council?"

"Don't worry, old chap," Dresden replied, his eyes scanning the building in front of him. "Any minute now one of 'em is going to swagger out of the building with an air of superiority that most of the White Council bears with them."

The door opened, and a dark-skinned, handsome young man came walking out of the building in a gray cloak and carrying an oaken staff. Dresden's lips twitched.

"You know him?" the British Harry asked.

"Yeah," he intoned. Dresden walked up to the Latino-looking man. "Hey, Ramirez, wasn't expecting you here."

"Yeah, well," the man replied with a faint accent. "After that last fiasco the Senior Council dragged me out here because I know you the best. I figured they need a leash to keep the dog restrained."

Harry snorted. "I didn't expect any less. Oh, yeah, Carlos, the skinny guy behind me is some sort of foreign guest to the White Council. I was supposed to bring him here. Harry Potter, this is Carlos Ramirez, Warden of the White Council. "

Carlos Ramirez regarded Harry with a pensive look. He looked at Dresden, who rolled his eyes. The warden turned back to Potter.

"Looks like you know a good fight, friend," the warden remarked respectfully. "What business brings you to the White Council?"

"Business that will be explained later on," the auror answered quietly. "To the Senior Council, if you don't mind."

Dresden gave his friend an I-told-you-so look. Ramirez shrugged and opened the door.

"S'okay, man," the Latino grunted. "Private stuff, I get it. Just to warn you, though, the Merlin isn't the kind to wait patiently for you to explain, especially in times like these."

Harry furrowed his brow. "I've heard you people speaking of this 'Merlin' fellow for a while now. Are you speaking of the original one?"

Dresden scoffed. "As if. This guy's like really pissy and cranky every time I meet him. He's got a big problem with newcomers, I can tell you that."

Ramirez coughed.

"If it's any comfort," the warden commented as they walked down the dimly-lit hallways. "The Merlin's British, also. Don't know if you guys have some sort of mutual mental link between fellow countrymen."

"Hardly," Potter said drily.

They entered the building. Ramirez led them down a damp corridor, his polished boots clacking noisily as he walked. They turned a corner, and the warden opened a red door for the two wizards. He grinned.

"After you," the warden said.

Harry walked into the room.

The Senior Council was smaller than he expected. There were four present, a considerably smaller number than what Harry had calculated. Whenever he thought of a council, he conjured up the image of the Ministry's judicial court in his head. Black robes, haughty faces, the works. This council was less in number, but from what he could gauge, they were no less intimidating.

The one sitting nearest to him was elderly, but had an aura of assurance and strength that wasn't common in old men. He had grizzled white hair and a tanned face creased with wrinkles of age and worry. There was a matronly black woman sitting next to him; she looked refined, but not with an air of superiority. The other was a tall, tanned man with pronounced cheekbones and a feather sticking out of his long black hair. Something moved and stuck its head out of the man's stole.

"Is that…a raccoon?" Harry whispered to Ramirez.

"The raccoon's name," the man said in a deep, lyrical voice, "is Little Brother. Do you have a snack for him?"

Potter stared at him.

"Hoss," the grizzled man grunted. "Wasn't expecting you."

"Hey there, Ebenezer," Dresden piped. "I was around town, so I decided to pop in and visit my favorite band of miscreants."

"Dresden," a stentorian voice called from the back of the room. "What business brings you here?"

There was a man seated on a regal oaken chair. His hair was pure white, but it was as groomed and cared for as Ebenezer's was unkempt and wild. A snowy beard covered his chin. Icy blue eyes glared out from a pale face, elderly but cold. He was dressed in all white, and an aura of absolute power came off of him in waves. If he was the Merlin, Harry mused, he must be the most powerful wizard on the planet. The man did not regard him, however, but kept his gaze unflinchingly on the wizard PI.

"I came here to escort this chap," Dresden answered, meeting the Merlin's gaze as well. "He said he needed to speak with you."

"Yes, yes," he replied. The Merlin turned to look at Harry. It took all the auror's power to not look away from the wizard's glacial gaze. "We received word from his superiors a few days ago. They did not inform me that he would be sent to you. Hardly a sufficient escort, in my opinion."

Dresden grinned, but it didn't reach his eyes.

The other man, Ebenezer, murmured something to him. The wizard-for-hire exhaled and promptly turned heel and walked out the door. Ramirez followed him out.

"Now, Mr. Potter," the Merlin said once the exit closed shut. "I believe you have come here regarding the murder of an associate by a member of our Accords?"

Accords? "Yes, quite right. A group of colleagues and I had caught wind of a suspected black magic strain in the region of Cambria…"

Harry told the story as best he could, leaving out the parts of his vacation and the other personal business. All the while, the Senior Council listened attentively, the Merlin's eyes never blinking. He ended with his arrival in Chicago, omitting his spat with Dresden. The room was silent.

"Nicodemus Archleone," the black woman said. She was staring off to the side, lost in thought. "Are you sure it was him?"

"Of course, madam," Harry answered. "It was by his words alone."

"Words can be deceiving," the Native-American man interjected, his raccoon eating something from his palm. "It could be an imposter…"

Ebenezer snorted, and Harry almost jumped in surprise. "Not likely. I don't think anyone who pretended they were Nicodemus lived to tell about it, much less continue."

"The man, if you can call him a man, has operated in Britain before," the Merlin said. His eyes glazed over, as if remembering old horrors and plots. "The Black Plague, the Great Fire of London, disasters of death and destruction. The Denarians, however, have not set foot in England for centuries."

"A pack of wolves returning to old hunting grounds?" the Native-American supplied.

"Perhaps," Merlin mused, tapping a finger against his chin. "Perhaps…"

Harry was beginning to lose patience. "This is most interesting, but I was sent here to make it abundantly clear that my superiors do not wish for our worlds to meet again. My boss, the Minister of Magic, wishes that we work together to dispose of this-"

"Unacceptable," the woman cut in. "The Denarians are signers of the Accords. By attacking them, we risk breaking laws older than anyone in this room. However vile the man is, Nicodemus is untouchable. Combating him is left to the Knights, such as the man you met on the island."

Harry couldn't believe anything he was hearing. He breathed though his nose and tried again. "Honored Merlin, Archleone has already killed more than a dozen Muggles, and we believe he intends to increase that number by a wide margin. Surely, you can help in any way-"

"I am sorry, Mr. Potter," the Merlin said, but there was no trace of apology in his tone whatsoever. "We cannot help you in this matter. Unless Nicodemus attacks us, which I am sure he will not, the apprehension of the heinous criminal is up to your ministry."

Harry bit his tongue to keep himself from crying out in fury. He came all the way to bloody Chicago for nothing? Before he could say anything, the Merlin leaned forward, fixing him with a steely gaze.

"That will be all, Mr. Potter."

With that, he waved his hand and muttered something under his breath. The air in front of him warped, spiraling and coalescing until it widened into a crackling circle. Harry, despite his shock, craned his head to look around it. Inside was a dank tunnel lined with rows of blazing torches, winding down into shadow. The edges of the portal fizzed with contained energy.

"Good day," the Merlin said. He walked into the portal and was gone. Ramirez came in, Dresden at his heels. Ebenezer smiled at the wizard and followed the Merlin, followed by the woman and the native.

"Sorry about that," Ramirez whispered to Harry. "He's a bit grumpy."

The Latino walked out, and the portal shut with a crackle and a wave of residual heat. Potter stood there for a moment, baffled. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see Dresden.

"What was that?" Potter asked.

"A Way," Dresden replied. "It leads into the Nevernever. Judging by your face, looks like you got rejected."

"More or less," Harry sniffed. "I was expecting a more good-natured bloke."

"The Merlin?" the taller wizard scoffed. "Arthur Langtry's so egotistic he makes Hitler look like a spoiled German school kid. C'mon, let's ditch this joint."

They walked out into the parking out. The sun was at its zenith, and Harry covered his eyes and groaned.

"Is it always this sunny in-?"

"Philadelphia?"

"What?"

"Nothing."

They reached the Blue Beetle, and the auror was once again graced with the sight of its abused frame. He regretted the trip even more, but he opened the door anyway. He heard something whistling towards him, to his right.

Being an auror for over a decade seemed to pay off, and he yelped and leapt to the side as the lance of red energy streamed past him and slammed into the pavement. Dresden cursed and whipped out a short staff carved with glowing runes. He screamed, "Fuego!", and pointed the staff at somewhere behind the auror. There was a blinding flash, and a river of fire poured from the end of the staff and at the unknown assailant. There was a sickening sizzle, followed by an anguished scream. Dresden gripped the dazed auror by the shoulder and shoved him up.

"You got a wand," the PI growled. "Use it."

Harry unclasped his wand and steadied himself. He gave a sidelong glance at the tall wizard. "You have my back?"

"Looks like it."

Something shifted in the shadow of the abandoned warehouse. Dresden snapped out a spell, and the air shimmered as an invisible force barreled into the wall of the warehouse. There was an ungodly shriek and the sound of wings flapping. A shape hurtled out from behind a garbage bin, targeting the wizard-for-hire. Harry pointed his wand at the dark shape and yelled, "Immobulus!" The thing froze and dropped to the concrete with a dull thud.

It was a mottled green, covered with crude black armor etched with archaic runes and symbols. It had a wicked looking scimitar in one gnarled hand, and it glared at the auror with unrestrained hatred. Several warts were on its face, and floppy ears stuck out from its Romanesque helmet. Serrated, yellow teeth stuck out from its dried, bulbous lips.

"Fuck," Dresden spat. "Goblins." He reached out with his staff and burned the goblin to a crisp.

"No," Potter countered, "Those aren't goblins. I've seen goblins before-"

"Well, welcome to my world. Behind you!"

Harry whirled and shouted, "Repello!" Another goblin, this one was smaller and gripping a gleaming dagger, snarled and spat in a foreign tongue as it was sent hurtling back into the air. Harry flourished his wand.

"Reducto!"

The small goblin's body fragmented, its thin frame cracking like a bag of meat hit by a wrecking ball. Its eyes widened, and then rolled over as its corpse hit the ground with a splat.

"Neat trick," Dresden murmured, somewhat enviously.

"Is that all?" Harry gasped, wiping his brow with his shirt sleeve. "Did we get them?"

"Hold on there, Horatio Nelson," Dresden replied, his dark eyes scanning the area. "They have one spell caster, and goblins usually travel in packs over six. We're not there yet."

"Brilliant," Potter sighed. "Just brilliant."

Just as he finished his exhalation, two more goblins came scampering out of the shadows, red eyes gleaming and weapons shining. Dresden gave a fierce battle-cry and brought his staff down, almost cracking the pavement below. A wave of kinetic energy slammed into the first goblin, a medium-sized brute with a battle-axe, and sent him squealing to the ground. The second once, a lean devil grasping twin knives, licked its lips and lunged forward, at Potter.

"Bombarda!"

The goblin screeched as an explosion bloomed in its face. It stumbled backwards, clutching its scorched, unrecognizable face. Harry sent another blasting curse, and the beast was done for. "That's four," he said, "Two more, I guess."

A shadow bore down on the pair, followed with a horrible screech and the sound of leathery wings. Harry dove out of the way, clutching his wand to his chest. He heard Dresden curse, and the sound of talons ripping into cloth and skin. He turned, seeing the PI struggling with an emaciated…woman…with bat-like wings and sharp talons. It was bald, and its skin was scaled like a lizard. Yellow eyes gleamed with fury and hunger as it attempted to tear Dresden's face off.

"Flipendo!" Harry cried out hoarsely.

The creature hissed as it was sent flipping into the air, its limbs sprawling out of control. Dresden clutched his arm, blood seeping out from between his fingers. He lifted his rod and screamed, "Fuego!"

A beam of fire, this one as thin as a pencil but hot as the sun, lanced out and struck the winged menace in the sternum. The monster cried out in pain once, but death overtook it before it could even leave its throat. The creature fell to the parking lot, immobile. The auror helped Dresden up, but he shook him off.

"'Tis a flesh wound," he grunted. "There's one more goblin, and a spell caster. I say we split up."

"I say we stay here," Harry replied, staring incredulously at the other wizard. "Seriously, 'split up'? You're wounded, and we're much better off together-"

"Fine, fine," Dresden snapped. He grinned wolfishly at the British man. "You know, if you didn't want to split up, you could've just invited me over for dinner-"

"We don't have time for this!"

There was an ear-shattering roar, and both wizards turned to see the largest goblin they had ever encountered. It was encased in the same black armor the others donned, but huge spikes jutted out from the shoulders and kneecaps. Malevolent, ruby eyes leered out from the shadows of the helmet it wore, and a massive war hammer was clutched in one gloved claw. It roared once more, its fangs as large as a bear's. Harry looked at Harry.

"This is your city," Potter mumbled.

"Yeah," Dresden scoffed uncertainly, "but you are my guest. I would be rude to deny you this splendid opportunity."

"Right, but you-"

"Screw it, I'll go first. Forzare!"

Another invisible wave of kinetic energy slammed into the uber-goblin, but it shrugged it off as if it were the breeze. It huffed in amusement and walked on. Dresden cursed and started looking around, his head whipping back and forth.

"What are you looking for?" Potter hissed.

"Iron," Dresden hissed back. "All faeries hate iron. Damn it, I should've brought my revolver…"

The goblin roared once again, and this time it started to run. Dresden looked up and let out a string of expletives so bad Harry flinched.

"GET OUT OF THE WAY!"

The hammer smashed into the pavement. The force was so destructive that both wizards were sent flying; the auror landed a few ways off, and Dresden slammed into the bumper of his car. The goblin lifted his weapon, bits of concrete and dust falling off its rectangular face. A decent crater was imprinted where the wizards had stood only moments before. The goblin gave a malicious grin and lifted his hammer again.

"Dresden!" the auror warned. The PI shook himself off and jumped out of harm's way as the hammer came down. There was a resounding boom, and the Blue Beetle flipped in the air and landed on its hood with a metallic screech. Dresden screamed something unintelligibly and started to let loose a barrage of kinetic attacks that sent the goblin stumbling backwards, but still relatively unharmed. As Dresden beat it back, Harry spied something lying beside a gutter. He bent over and picked it up.

It was a crowbar, probably left by some miscreant after a mugging. Dried blood caked its sharp tip, and the wizard realized that it was made of iron. He grinned and turned back to the fight.

"Dresden! Distract it as best as you can!" he called.

"FUCK YOU!"

Potter licked his lips and tossed the crowbar into the air. He flourished his wand as the tool reached its peak, and whispered, "Wingardium Leviosa." The crowbar hovered mid-air, and Harry's grin widened. He levitated the crowbar until it floated just above the uber-goblin's armored back. The beast had turned the tables on Dresden: He was repeatedly pounding the ground with his hammer, but the PI elusively avoided each blow.

"Anytime now!" the PI gasped.

Harry dropped the crowbar.

The iron tool slipped into the crevice between the creature's neck and breastplate, disappearing into the goblin's armor. It let loose a terrible howl of anguish as the hot metal touched its skin. It ignored Dresden and dropped its hammer, squirming as it attempted to get the crowbar off its back. In its panic, it unclasped its breastplate, leaving its entire green torso bare and vulnerable. It sighed in relief as the tool clattered to the ground.

"Sectumsempra!"

Lacerations appeared all over the uber-goblin's muscular waist, tracing around and around like some disturbing calligraphy. Blood spurted from the wounds, and skin split until the thin layer of yellow fat dripped from its insides. It dropped with a boom, twitching on the ground until it was still. Harry slumped, his wand held weakly at his side.

"You did it," Dresden managed to croak. "You killed it."

"Yeah," Potter sighed. "Whoopie."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

We found the wizard lying behind a garbage bin. It was easy enough; the trail of blood was evident against the gray sidewalk. He had tried to fight back, but I had slammed my boot down on his hand before he could grip his staff. I asked the auror if he could freeze everything on the man's body expect his eyes and mouth, and he obliged, flicking his wand like a fairy godmother. The wizard was bald, the smell of cheap beer on his breath. Black eyes flickered nervously from me to my newfound ally.

It was the second time I interrogated a person in the past week. "Who sent you?"

The man spat a gob of blood on my cheek.

He was asking for it.

I clutched the man's injured shoulder, which was charred from my incendiary attack from before. He gritted his teeth. I gripped him harder. He let loose a strangled groan, but I continued to squeeze.

"AARGH! OK, for God's sake! It was the shadow man! Nicodemus! Let go!"

I didn't.

"Were you here to kill us?" Potter asked, his body rigid.

"No, we were sent to invite you over for tea-AARRGH! Yes, we were sent to kill you!" He had a British accent, Cockney. What a surprise.

"Who are you?" I asked, not letting up.

"GOYLE! Me name's Goyle!"

"How'd you get the goblins and the harpy, Goyle?" I inquired, although I probably knew the answer.

"Shadow man said that some bloke named the Erlking pitched in! Said he had a bone to pick with you!"

I cursed. Potter looked at me.

"You know him?"

"Yeah. Faerie lord. Equal, in terms of power, to Mab, the Queen of Air and Darkness. Magical heavyweight."

"How'd you make him your enemy?"

I shrugged. "I didn't let him eat me."

I could feel the auror's stare, but I continued to press on the injured man's wound. Goyle's gaze faltered as he turned to look at the other Harry.

"Shite," he hissed. "What are you doing here?"

Potter smiled cheekily. "Is it your business, Goyle?"

"You little brat, I swore to kill you for what you did to my son-"

I socked him on the face. The would-be assassin slumped, unconscious. I stood and wiped my hands. "You know him?"

"Old enemy. He thinks I killed his son."

I looked at him. "Did you?"

"No, but he was the kind of prick that made you wish you did."

For the first time in a long time, I laughed.

AN: Thanks for reading! As always, PLEASE R&R! No flames, pleaassee!