This chapter... It was like pulling teeth! Or blood from a stone! Except more painful! When I said within the next week on my profile, this is not what I meant. Anyway, I hope to reply to all of you who reviewed the last chapter because you guys really do deserve the individual gratitude I'm feeling for each of you for keep the motivation going. There's one that stood out from the rest though.

Because it always makes me smile to think Harry has "emotional authority", this chapter is for teedub!


When Harry Potter performed his 'final death' for the Wizarding World, he hadn't really been thinking anything more complicated than, "Let's get the hell out of Dodge!" Unfortunately, that made his later desired task of staying in England, close to Sherlock and Mycroft, all the more difficult. Luckily, saving Wizarding Britain from Voldemort also meant saving Muggle Britain from the dark wizard as well. Or rather, Mundane Britain, as the Queen preferred it to be called. Presently, the Queen was someone whom Harry was more than willing to listen to, as aforementioned royalty was currently organising the multitude of opportunities Harry was receiving to stay out of sight but close to London. It helped that Her Majesty was also rather fond of the Holmes brothers. Indeed, she found his reasons and relations to the Holmes' rather amusing, but he couldn't really fault her for that, even he found it amusing when he took a moment to think about it.

As it was, the Queen, in collaboration with the mundane Prime Minister, was creating an entirely new division in Scotland Yard, with the added benefit of accommodating to Harry's unusual circumstances. Harry suspected the Minister of Magic may also be partially involved, if only as a consultant. This new division would primarily be made up of squibs and muggleborns who desired and were capable of living in the mundane society. They would take the unusual cases, cold or otherwise, and with their knowledge of magic decide whether the case was magical, whether it should be brought to the attention of the Aurors, or whether they were capable of handling it themselves. The aim of the division was to have an official position in the Yard to cut down on the number of oblivations that occurred to the police force and the general public. The division would be the official liaison between the Aurors and the Yard, but would be situated in the mundane world unlike the Department of Muggle Affairs in the Ministry, who, despite well-meaning folk such as Arthur Weasley and only in Harry's opinion, had no idea as to how to do their jobs.

'Well, the new division will hopefully be the end result,' thought Harry as DI Lestrade continued his tour of Scotland Yard. 'For now, it's just me working the usual case to get experience.'

Harry grudgingly admitted, if only to himself, that he would probably end up only partially working for the Yard, while also working for Mycroft in the near future. After all the trouble he'd gone to, to fake his final death, he wasn't going to mess it up by becoming a liaison to the Aurors. Though he had the Queen's protection, it would be more trouble than it was worth to be discovered. However, after his recent discussion with Mycroft, the "minor government employee", he rather hoped the 'near future' was not within the next year or two. Harry found comfort in reminding himself of the fact that he'd agreed to entertain the rare favour for the Queen, should she ever ask it of him. It was an odd comfort, but comfort none the less.

"So, any questions?" Lestrade asked cheerfully, once they'd reached his office. Truthfully, Lestrade had no idea what to make of the new Inspector, who seemed to be of a similar age to Sherlock but carried himself in a way Lestrade imagined John Watson did after he came home from his military tour. He quietly wondered how well the new recruit would get along with the retired army surgeon if the two met.

"Much field work?"

"Enough," was Lestrade's hesitant reply, the question having brought him back to the present.

Harry smirked, "Much paperwork?"

"Too much," the DI sighed tiredly just thinking about it. Harry chuckled; amused by the anticipated reaction he received.

"Anyone I should look out for or avoid, maybe?" Harry asked curiously, gazing around Lestrade's office, not really expecting anything other than a negative reply. Lestrade, slightly thrown by the question, shuffled uneasily and rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to say.

"Well…" he trailed off hesitantly.

Harry's eyes stopped their exploration of the office and focused on Lestrade. He turned giving his full attention to the fidgeting form of the DI, beginning to genuinely dread hearing the answer to his question. Upon seeing the look he was getting, Lestrade sighed heavily. New recruits were often territorial of any cases they received. Usually feeling the need to prove themselves capable and worthy, they sometimes went about it the wrong way, excepting little to no help and getting offended when observations were pointed out. DI Dimmock was the perfect example of that for a time. Hoping for the best, but mentally preparing for the worst, he explained.

"There's a man who comes in every now and then, when a case is particularly difficult and he takes an interest in it" Lestrade began, "He's a consultant of sorts, I suppose, and he's brilliant. Truly brilliant, but he's-"

"He's a freak," another voice cut in.

Lestrade would have closed his eyes in frustration and disappointment at the sound of Sgt Donavan's voice, had he not seen the twitch in the young man's eyebrow, miniscule though it was. He felt some worry when a cold but polite smile was plastered onto the pale face, which did nothing to hide the sharpened glint his eyes took. Lestrade felt momentarily concerned for his Sergeant as the other man turned to the mocha skinned woman. Seeing the sardonic, bittersweet smile on her face, a stray thought whispered that she might deserve whatever happened next. He just hoped he wouldn't have to clean up the mess. He was surprised when the voice he'd been expecting had a smooth and seductive, if slightly chilling, quality to it.

"Inspector Harry Black, at your service," Harry intoned with a short nod. Donavan's smile turned a little more sweet than bitter.

"Sergeant Sally Donavan at yours".

"Charmed," the polite smile turned slightly more charismatic and Lestrade felt like he was watching a particularly cruel cat play lazily with a mouse. "Forgive me Sgt Donavan, but I don't quite understand the meaning to your initial statement. Could you elaborate, please?"

Donavan was only too happy to do so and seemed oblivious to the warning signs that Lestrade was seeing; "The man Inspector Lestrade is telling you about is intelligent, no question, but he's a nut. He gets his kicks from seeing dead bodies. He's an arrogant ass too, that guesses your life story from the clothes you're wearing. In essence, he's a creep".

Harry frowned, but Lestrade felt it was more for performance than anything else; "So he's likes the challenge of solving someone's murder and likes to point out observations he notices about others?"

"That's what he says, but it's only a matter of time before solving crimes isn't enough for him," Donavan scoffed. Harry hummed, unimpressed.

"Does he show his emotions?" he asked, subdued.

Donavan scoffed again, "He doesn't have any".

"Does he adhere to social norms? Like know what is appropriate to say and when?"

"Not at all. He just blurts it out, regardless of who is listening," she scowled, not liking this line of questioning but not knowing entirely why. Lestrade stayed silent.

"Then, in the opinions of most psychiatrists and the more observative and patient, the man is what some would call, mentally handicapped. In my opinion, however, he is an observational genius whose increased IQ has left him unable to connect with other people as they have trouble keeping up with his mental capabilities. As such, because he couldn't connect, he couldn't develop on an emotional level. This leaves him with the emotional understanding of, say, a five year old," Harry stated drily, his face now slated. Donavan's scowl deepened but Lestrade was suppressing a smile, because it did kind of sound like Sherlock, both in description and tone. Harry continued;

"Considering he helps solve crimes, I highly doubt he'll turn into a serial killer, purely because, if for nothing else, he wouldn't find the challenge in it if he dislikes the way the Yard solve cases. Though, I now have a better idea as to why you seem to hate him so much, particularly if it has anything to with a supply closest, which I suspect it does".

Donavan's mouth dropped open in stunned offense, while Lestrade frowned at the implied lack of profession though he wasn't entirely sure from whom. He didn't like Harry throwing accusations around like Sherlock, with observations rather than evidence the majority could follow. However, if there was evidence, something would eventually have to be done about Donavan and her work ethic. A fine sergeant she may be, but there was a time and place for everything, including social niceties.

"You're just like him, aren't you?" she accused scathingly, "You're a freak, who gets his kicks from airing everyone's dirty laundry in their-"

"Actually, Sgt Donavan, I am not," Harry interrupted, with ice in his eyes and hard steel in his tongue; he stilled the other occupants in the room. "While my observational skills are above average, I am nowhere near a level where I can tell what you had for dinner last night by the clothes you are wearing today. I do, however, have a perfectly working set of ears, which had the misfortune to pick up your malodorous tones through the door of a supply closest."

Donavan had the grace to lower her eyes in mortified shame as her cheeks heated. Lestrade however, had to cover his eyes with his hand and grip the desk he was leaning against with the other. Hearing the deed through a door was a little different to seeing fibres of the carpet on Donavan's knees. Harry didn't stop there though;

"I will admit to having been called a freak by my maternal guardians for seventeen years of my life at least" the other occupants in the room looked up in shock, "I would bet a large sum of money that if they ever do mention my existence in passing, they still call me a freak. However, they still have the good grace and sense not to say within my presence and I would hope that if animals like them can have the tact to do so, then a sergeant of Scotland Yard, one the most well-known police forces in the world, would have the tact to do so as well."

There was a beat of silence before Donavan opened her mouth. To argue, to apologise or to question, Harry didn't know and he didn't really care. He waved a dismissive hand, silencing her before she could speak.

"I don't want to hear it," he said flatly. "I don't care what you do in your spare time but don't do it here. I also don't care what you think of me, of our supposed consultant or anyone else for that matter. So long as you keep your opinions to yourself. Do those two things and we will have no issues with working together in future, got it?"

She nodded mutely, still gazing down at the floor; "Good".

Seeming to take that as a dismissal, the sergeant walked into the room, placed a slim case folder on the desk behind Lestrade and walked out without so much as a nod. Lestrade watched her with a raised eyebrow, and then sent a small quirk of the lips towards Harry who was gazing stoically at the empty doorway.

"Wow," he said, drawing Harry's attention from the door, "If I could get that reaction every time I have to reprimand my sergeants that would be half my work done. I'm impressed."

Harry seemed to sag as he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "I would say sorry, but I'm not feeling particularly apologetic at the moment. I might later though."

"Well you're honest, I'll give you that. Don't worry about it," Lestrade waved a hand, "I was being serious. Just don't alienate yourself from these people. We are your co-workers after all. And if you don't have patience with them, you'll have no chance with our resident consultant."

Harry smiled, "Considering how much experience I have with the company of Sherlock Holmes, I think I'll be fine on that front."

Lestrade couldn't really say he was surprised but he felt the need to ask; "You know Sherlock?"

Harry smiled with a bit more warmth, "Indeed I do. Quite well actually and I have no problem with him helping me out whenever he feels the motivation to."

Lestrade snorted, "Well, you'll be one of the first, though that does explain your reaction to Donavan a bit better."

Both detectives frowned at the recent interaction, though it was for different reasons.

"You weren't lying about your relatives though, were you?" Lestrade clarified after a momentary pause. Harry's posture straightened and his expression distant.

"No."

"You called them animals."

Once again, Harry sagged out a sigh and sat in a chair in front of Lestrade, who was still leaning against the front of his desk. He reclined in his chair so he could look at the elder inspector comfortably as he spoke; "Look, I'm not saying I want to talk about it because I don't. I'm also not saying I'm over it, because that would probably be lying and I'm not really a fan of self-denial. However, I will say this. It has taken me a long time to accept this, and sometimes I still have my doubts but… I'm," he paused, indecisive, "grateful, I'm a freak in my relatives' eyes. People like my relatives, people like Donavan, they're not good people. They're not healthy. They are bitter and twisted and ugly on the inside and hold a lot of hatred. And if being normal means being like them then I'm glad I'm a freak. I'm better this way."

They sat in silence a while as they digested what was said. For Lestrade, it was an insightful look into how Harry's perception of the world worked and while he wasn't sure whether or not it was healthy or even if he agreed with it, he couldn't really argue with the other inspector's reasons. For Harry, it was the first time he had admitted those thoughts out loud, never mind to another person and the admission seemed to add to the acceptance in and of his thoughts.

"You still called them animals though," Lestrade stated with a pointed look.

Harry rolled his eyes, "The general consensus of anyone who's been asked to describe my relatives is that my uncle is a walrus, my aunt is a giraffe and my cousin is a baby whale. I'm pretty sure even the neighbours would agree with that if you asked them directly."

Lestrade raised a sceptical eyebrow but decided to let the matter drop for the moment. Shifting his weight to his feet, he rounded his desk to sit in the chair behind it. He opened one of his drawers and after a moment of shuffling pulled out an ID badge that he slid across the table to Harry.

"Well, there's your badge. I suggest you carry it with you everywhere, regardless of whether you're on duty or not," Lestrade began explaining while opening the case file on his desk, "For the first couple of cases, you'll be working exclusively with me and after that, depending on your performance, you'll be working on your own cases. I think the higher ups have a few cold cases they want you to look at, something about a test run for the new department, but you don't need to worry about that yet" Lestrade frowned for a moment at a thought, but continued on with a shake of his head.

"As senior officer, you answer to me, and only me, on any cases we're working on together. I was told something about unique circumstances and that other than me you really only have to answer to one or two other people. It didn't really make a lot of sense to me, but I presume that was the idea behind the explanation. Still, as a personal favour, I ask you to at least be civil to the Chief Superintendent whenever he comes knocking" Harry chuckled at the Inspector's slightly pleading look and nodded.

"If he's civil, I'll be civil," Harry promised.

"Great," Lestrade whooshed a sigh of relief, and began to skim the open case file in front of him," well, that's really it for the moment. According to this there's a body in the morgue though, which is somewhere else we spend time. I'll take you to see it now, if you like, and you can help with the case? I know you're not starting until next week but-"

"I've got nothing else planned until this weekend," Harry interrupted with a smile.

"Well, let's get going then," Lestrade chirped with a responding smile, gathering his necessities and leading the way out to his car.

Harry followed him, feeling the weight of his badge in his hand. Legally, Harry had the right to call himself a Black, through his inheritance from Sirius which included the Lordship. On paper, he had the double barrel name, Potter-Black, which he found tediously long but an odd comfort. In general, he would be known as Detective Inspector Black or just Harry Black while off duty. It was just another way to keep his death permanent. There were plenty of Potter's in England, plenty of Black's too, but while the name Potter would make a wizard turn and look, the name Black wouldn't. If anything, it would make said wizard run in the other direction. Added with the fact that he no longer wore his glasses out of the house and that his scar was faded and hidden he no longer looked like the iconic Harry Potter.

Well, it would take some people a moment to realise it at least.


So, I apologise for the long wait but I hope you enjoyed this chapter regardless. If you see any grammar mistakes, please let me know so I can change them. I won't give a time for the next one because I've got nothing written and only a little planned. I will tell you that there will only be 2 more chapters by my estimations. Again, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!