AN: Revised as of 6-9-2014 with the help of The amazing lemon cheesecake. Fixing grammar, typos and continuity issues, including comments made in previous reviews.
1972, on a tropical island
Sitting on a veranda of a spacious villa, overlooking a valley with palm trees and banana plantations below them, and a rich deep blue sea in the distance, a man and woman were enjoying freshly squeezed grapefruit juice as they relaxed in the sun.
"Who knew that fresh grapefruit from right off of the trees could taste so good?" asked Daphne.
Harry smile back at the love of his life. "I think we will be quite happy here. It is a great location. This island has almost no one who is magical. The climate is wonderful. We are currently in a British Colony, but soon this island will be an independent country. We'll be sure to have the wards up before the cyclone hits in 79. It's kind of amazing when we already know some of the future. It will also be a help having moved the time travel device from the department of mysteries here to the island."
"Well, now that we're back in the 1970's, you can't just enjoy the view," commented Daphne.
Harry stared at Daphne as he interjected, "But what a view I get to enjoy."
"Stop it," she said with a laugh as she hit him on the arm. "But seriously, and no comments about your godfather, we need to start tracking down the criminals in Australia to establish your reputation as a bounty hunter."
"Of course, dear," answered Harry with a smile.
Melbourne, Australia
The cold rain was making the dark night more than miserable. The dim light of the bar was only made more oppressive than normal, and the smell of old tobacco hung in the air. A man in a dark grey duster walked into the bar and nodded to the bartender who nodded back and poured the man a shot of whiskey. He stroked his dark goatee with one hand before taking the drink, then he downed it in one quick gulp. He turned and started to head towards a table in the back of the bar as he bumped into another man, who was wearing a dark and dingy robe. The man who was jostled shoved the first man away from him as he growled at him.
"Watch yourself, mate," he sneered.
"All right, mate, I'll be more careful," replied the man with the goatee.
"You'll be dead, is what you'll be," growled the offended man. He snapped his wrist and suddenly he had a long dark stick in his hand and was pointing it at the other man's chest.
"You plan to poke me with a stick?" questioned the man with the goatee, giving an uncomfortable laugh.
"This stick is your death, mate, if you don't be more careful," added the man holding the stick. "This is a wand, it's magic. And people like you can and will end up dead without your being able to do anything about it." Noticing that the man with the goatee appeared to be stepping away cautiously he let out a roar of laughter.
"You can't run away from me, mate, if I plans to kill you, I'll bloody damn well do it without so much as a by your leave."
The man with the goatee tripped and ended up falling backwards into a chair.
The man holding the stick towered over him. "I've been hanging out here for quite a long time, and there ain't nobody who comes or goes that I don't know. Then you, stranger, show up a few days ago, and come in every night and drink one whiskey. So it gets me to wondering, just who are you?"
Sitting in the chair and looking up into the dark and menacing eyes of the man in front of him, he stutters out a reply, "Just new to the area, and I like a good whiskey. Can't afford to have too many or the old lady will tan my arse."
The man with the stick laughed again. "You seem to be a little too whipped to be coming around here. Maybe I ought to have you take me back to your old lady so I can teach her some manners and show her how a real man can take care of a Sheila."
"I'm not sure that would be a good idea," came the stammered reply.
There was a loud guffaw from the man holding the stick as he towered over the other man. "And just why would that be such a bad idea?"
"Well," began the man in the chair, "I just got this new job, and I promised the little lady that I wouldn't be out too late tonight."
"And just what sort of new job would this be?" asked the man as he leered at him.
"I thought I'd try my hand at being a bounty hunter," was the understated reply.
Before the other man could react, the man in the chair was on his feet and his eyes were flashing green. With a wave of his hand the stick flew out of the other man's grasp and then with another wave of his hand some glowing metal manacles appeared and the man who had been holding the stick screamed in shock and anger.
"Those are magic suppressing manacles," stated the man with the goatee. "You can try and break free all you want, but stronger wizards than you haven't been able to break them yet, so I doubt you'll have much success."
He then grabbed the infuriated man who was still screaming as if he was in pain and pulled him along by the collar on his robe. "The more you struggle against these manacles, the more the pain will increase, I thought you might like to know."
Several of the other patrons in the bar had now stood up and were holding their wands and pointing them at the two men. This did not go unnoticed by the bounty hunter. With a quick wave of his free hand, all of the wands were soon flying across the room to land with a clatter in the corner by the bar.
"Now that wouldn't really be fair if you all decided to gang up on me now, would it," commented the bounty hunter. "So, it seems it is best for me and Mr. Smythe to depart."
One of the men who had just lost his wand called out to him. "And just who do you think you are?"
"I think I am a bounty hunter," he replied dryly. "However, you can call me 'Django'."
With that he apparated away with his captive in tow.
The one who had called out to Django then turned to the bartender, "I thought you said you had anti-apparation wards all around this place."
The bartender quickly waved his wand and muttered quietly then he answered the accusatory stares, "And they all seem to be in place still. I have no idea how that Django did what he did."
Harry and Daphne were sitting at a small table at their favourite restaurant. They could hear the sounds of the nearby waterfall in the background as they slowly ate the delicate meal of flying fish that was served to them.
"So, you were saying you have been able to review the Australian Oracle's accounts of the capture of William Smythe," commented Harry who had picked up their conversation after being sure that the privacy wards were in place.
"Yes, and the Australian Ministry is beside itself trying to answer the questions from the press about how some unknown bounty hunter just showed up with their number one fugitive. Not that the people are complaining as he was a thief and a murderer. The paper did suggest that the Australian Auror Corps may have had a planned raid to capture him," added Daphne.
Harry took a sip of the juice in front of him, "Which they did," he added with a laugh, "as it was the history of their raid which would have taken place the next day that helped us plan the capture. Any more information about this mysterious bounty hunter?"
"The only published picture of you has your face all in shadow," replied Daphne. "The Ministry and the paper have no idea why they couldn't get a better picture of Django."
"Your knowledge of glamours from your work in the Department of Mysteries sure has come in handy," commented Harry with a huge grin. "Any evidence of a change in the time-line since this little adventure occurred?"
Daphne shook her head slightly, "Not from what I can tell from reviewing other news sources since that date. Although if there were subtle changes they may not show up in the first few years after the event," she added thoughtfully.
"So, here we are, in 1972, having successfully apprehended a wanted criminal in 1970 in Australia," said Harry as he raised his glass in a toast. "To our past and future success!"
1973, Sydney Australia
The dark figure moved through the shadows in the area known as Blood Lane, a part of magical Sydney that made Knockturn Alley in London seem like a walk in the park. Harry, or Django as he went by as a bounty hunter in the past, was heading towards a certain tavern. His target was a wizard whose reputation was not as dangerous as Mr. Smythe who had been apprehended just last week in Harry's time, or six months previous to the day he found himself here in Sydney. Things had gone remarkably well with the apprehension of Mr. Smythe, but Harry had learned too often from his experience in tracking down the Death Eaters that there was never a situation where he should feel over confident. Sometimes fate liked to play games with people, and too often it seemed that Harry was Fate's favourite punching bag. Daphne had reviewed this scenario with him several times before Harry travelled back in time and then to Australia.
Reginald Dwight was not a particularly imposing man when people first encountered him. He did have a predilection for preying on unsuspecting muggle women. The Australian Auror Corps were trying to track him down, but even they were not about to venture into Blood Lane. They had a plan to capture him within the week as they were expecting him to make another attack in the muggle part of Sydney. Harry figured he would just walk in and grab Mr. Dwight and be done with it.
The Rat's Nest was perhaps a too appropriate name for a tavern in Blood Lane and Harry shook his head in disgust at the filth that covered the front of the establishment. The doors and windows were also quite greasy and dirty. Harry pushed his way through the crowd and into the bar. There was a fairly busy crowd as all the tables were full and the bar had no open stools. As Harry made his way to speak with the bartender a hush fell over the room. Harry silently cursed his luck. He could overhear the murmurings as people started questioning who this stranger was and if he could be the Django who they had read about in the Australian Oracle.
Harry made his way to the bar and ignored the stares from everyone. The bartender looked at him in silence as he wiped off a glass with a rag that had seen better days. As the bartender did not ask him if he wanted anything Harry made his request as a simple statement. "Fire Whiskey. Make it a double."
The bartender never took his eyes off of Harry as he put down the beer glass in his hand and reached for a couple of shot glasses. He then grabbed a bottle of fire whiskey and filled the two glasses he had placed in front of Harry. Harry gave a slight nod at the bartender to acknowledge the skill he had to do all of that without looking at the bottle or the glasses.
"Thank you kindly, my good man," was Harry's comment to the bartender as he reached for the first glass. He silently and wandlessly cast a detection charm to make sure there were no poisons or potions added to his drinks before he gulped the first one down.
"Are you the one they call Django?" asked the bartender. His whispered question seemed to echo throughout the tavern as everyone continued to stare the dark robed stranger.
Harry slowly stroked his goatee with his left hand as he replied, "I have been called that at times."
"Well then," continued the bartender, "you are not welcome here. Just finish your drink and be on your way. That way no one gets hurt."
Harry nodded at the man as he responded to him slowly. "My every intention is that no one here gets hurt."
Harry picked up the remaining shot of fire whiskey and turned to face the rest of the room, and noted that nearly every eye was focused on him. Several wizards and a few witches were slowly reaching for their concealed wands. Harry downed the second glass of fire whiskey without taking his eyes off of the crowd.
He then spoke to everyone. "It seems that I am not wanted here. I'm not sure that many of you could say that, that you're not wanted, that is. But I did not come here to fight or to cause any trouble."
Harry reached behind him and placed the empty shot glass on the bar and then slowly raised his hands in front of him.
"You can see that I am unarmed, so if you all don't mind, I will kindly see myself out." Harry then started walking towards the front door which was quickly blocked by several large and menacing wizards all with wands drawn.
A witch with a revealing bodice and loose robes ran past him and whispered to him her floo address as she winked and then ran towards the back. Harry smirked at the men in front of him. "Maybe I should just leave with her," he joked out loud. Harry glanced over his shoulder towards where the witch had run off and slowly started walking sideways in the same direction.
The three wizards, who reminded him of Crabbe and Goyle with a bastard cousin, started moving towards him.
"Maybe you're not leaving here at all, Django," threatened the largest of the three who was standing in the middle. "Maybe we'll just make an example of you."
Harry tripped over a chair at one of the tables. He fell to his side and grabbed onto the back of a man in one of the chairs at the table. As the two of them were falling together, Harry apparated them both out of the tavern. Landing in the middle of what appeared to be a desert, the unfortunate man had the wind knocked out of him as Harry landed on top of him.
"Get off of me," growled the smaller man. Harry pushed himself up and then offered a hand to help the other man stand up.
"Sorry about landing on you, sir," commented Harry.
"You don't know how sorry you will be," snarled the man as he took Harry's proffered hand.
As Harry helped him stand up he waved his hands and magic suppressing manacles immediately appeared on the other man's wrists.
"Well, Mr. Dwight, I do believe the one who will be sorry is you, as I am about to hand you over to the Auror Corps."
Mr. Dwight's jaw dropped as he realised the whole tripping over the chair was merely a ruse to appear to randomly pick him as a way to break his fall. "You'll never get away with this, Django!" he screamed.
"The one who is not getting away it seems is you, Reginald," commented Harry with a grin. Then they apparated again and this time they arrived in front of the Auror Corps office. Several Aurors were waiting as they had received an anonymous message that Django would be bringing them another one of their most wanted criminals.
The senior Auror looked at Harry and his captive. "So, Mr. Reginald Dwight, it seems that Django here has saved us the trouble of tracking you down."
Reginald Dwight tried to spit at Harry as he had no other means to attack him, but the spittle seemed to bounce off an invisible shield and hit himself in his own face. The Aurors just laughed at the sight.
"Well, Django, I am Senior Auror Dundee and it seems like we owe you once again," commented the man who had spoken first when Harry arrived.
"Obviously you did receive my message, and I did arrive at the predetermined time and place to drop of this individual," smiled Harry. "Now, will you be keeping your part of the bargain?"
"I will see to it that the ministry sends the previously stated bounty to the numbered account you have at Gringotts." The Senior Auror paused as Harry only responded with a silent nod of approval. He then questioned the bounty hunter in front of him. "Are you from around these parts? How come we never heard of you before six months ago?"
Harry just quietly smirked in reply. "Oh, I've been around," was all he added.
Harry then turned to walk away and one of the other Aurors finally spoke up. "Some of the guys are saying you're just as much a criminal as these guys you turn in, that you're doing this out of spite."
Another Auror spoke up. "The word on the street is that you're the most powerful wizard since Merlin."
Harry stopped and turned and faced the now speechless Aurors. "I am not, and have never been a criminal, not counting a minor disagreement I once had with the goblins when I was young. And I have no idea how powerful I am compared to other wizards. I just have a job to do, and currently that involves bringing in those who are being hunted down by the Aurors."
Without another word, he turned to walk away, his dark robes billowing behind him. Harry thought of all the times that Snape had done that and he laughed to himself at how simple it was to make his robes respond in such an impressive and intimidating manner. Then he apparated away from the Australian DMLE offices.
One of the Aurors vocalized his surprise, "How can he do that? We can't even apparate from this area!"
The Island Villa
"So did it go down much as you expected," commented Harry.
Accepting the complement, Daphne greeted Harry with a kiss. "Of course it did, love."
"Well there was one unexpected part of the mission," added Harry.
Daphne raised an eyebrow. "And what, pray tell, was that? I thought we were quite thorough in our planning. We figured they would recognize you despite the photos not showing your face. The fact that they did and were ready to try and ambush you indicates that just that first fugitive you brought in for the bounty was enough to get the whole criminal world set on edge."
"Oh it was quite clear they knew who I was, and it was also quite clear that they were not surprised that I showed up there," replied Harry. "But the young witch who whispered her floo address in my ear was not expected."
"You are quite dashing in your grey robes, my dear," added Daphne. "But don't fool yourself into thinking she really wanted you to visit, it was probably just another ambush being set up for them to try and catch you."
Harry's mood seemed to deflate slightly, then he continued with a sigh, "But one can always hope it was meant to be more than that."
Daphne glared at Harry at his comments. "Do you want the sofa? For the rest of your life? And a first hand experience of just why I had the nickname Ice Queen back in school?"
Harry leaned in and kissed Daphne on her forehead. "One, I have no desire to go chasing after any other woman now that I have you back again. No one can compare to you, my love. Two, I am not stupid. I would never risk getting on your bad side like that."
"And don't you forget it," teased Daphne in response. Taking his hand she pulled him towards the door to the villa. "Now, what do you say to a midnight swim?"
Harry raised an eyebrow in reply, "In the ocean among the reefs or under Trafalgar Falls?"
"The falls," stated Daphne, "they should look lovely tonight with the full moon out."
1977, Island Villa
Harry and Daphne were reviewing the success of their personal mission so far.
Harry, or Django, had apprehended four magical criminals in Australia, and had already been labelled the Dark Hunter by the Australian Oracle. Word of his ability to show up in the middle of even the most secure and heavily warded areas, particularly within the magical criminal world, was spreading.
Some had wondered if he was truly a ghost that was able to take physical form. Government law enforcement agencies were taking notice with the ease with which this Django was able to apparate in and out of their own secure locations.
The Pevensie vault at Gringotts was growing. They were already quite rich based on the gold and platinum bars that were obtained from emptying the vaults of the Death Eater families that Harry had eliminated in the future, or their past. Added to that was the reward money that Django had been receiving for the several criminals he had received.
Their selection of a remote Caribbean Island away from the leading magical governments had been quite useful as well. They had been on the island for several years now and had been accepted as eccentric but friendly neighbours. When they were not busy planning the next criminal to apprehend so as to grow Django's reputation as the Dark Hunter, they were enjoying the sites around the island. The small villages were all unique and filled with friendly people. Harry and Daphne had even visited with the last remaining members of the Carib tribe. He smiled knowing that in a little over 20 years they would all get parts in a Johnny Depp movie. They would occasionally dine at small restaurants in the capital city, or town as the locals referred to it. Their identification was that of Harry and Daphne Pevensie, British citizens, residents of the commonwealth island that was part of the British Empire. The two were well aware of the changing political climate that would soon lead to the island becoming an independent country, but that was still a year away.
While they were enjoying their afternoon tea at their villa, overlooking the surrounding rainforests, Daphne brought up the need to establish Django in the United States. "We do have several marks identified as fugitives you can apprehend shortly before they are captured by the American Aurors."
Harry corrected her, "The Magical branch of their FBI, they don't call them Aurors in America. That is too connected to the old ways that the Americans feel are too outdated."
Daphne scoffed, "If the American Magical Government isn't more careful, they will be in violation of the statutes of secrecy with the entire ICW. That won't help anything."
Harry was a little surprised by her comments. "Well, by the time we first travelled back in time, the Americans had not broken the Statute of Secrecy even once. It was Tom Riddle and all of the attacks on muggles by the Death Eaters that came the closest to doing that."
"Oh, and your actions as the Lord Protector didn't come close to violating the Statute of Secrecy?" she asked with mirth in her voice. "Destroying muggle buildings that are world famous in order to catch one Death Eater on the run is not exactly being secret."
"Muggle terrorists have destroyed many internationally known landmarks," explained Harry.
"Making the Leaning Tower of Pisa collapse to catch the Death Eater hiding in it was a little over the top, and it could not have been explained as a terrorist attack," argued Daphne.
"Well, just because no one else was hurt," commented Harry. "Travers broke his arm in the fall, so he was unable to cast any spells and harm any muggles. I thought it was a great plan."
"But then the tower was fixed almost immediately after thousands had witnessed its collapse!" argued Daphne. "How could the European Magical Commonwealth explain that away? Surely not as a terrorist attack!"
"Special effects for an upcoming muggle movie," offered Harry meekly.
"And a horrific mess with the EMC calling out hundreds of Obliviation crews for containment.
"I still think they could have explained it all much more simply with a report of LSD getting into the public water supply in combination with planned special effects for a Hollywood movie," Harry said defensively. "But the real issue is that I captured Travers. And nobody, other than Travers, got hurt. And Italy has their leaning tower back."
"The Italian government is still trying to figure out how the tower was leaning a little less the day after the incident than it was the week before when they last made the official measurements," added Daphne, still expressing her frustration with Harry.
"The ECM should have thanked me for that, as I helped forestall the inevitable collapse of the tower in Pisa. I think it ended up as a win-win situation for everyone," concluded Harry.
Daphne sighed in frustration. "Just because you didn't have much of a childhood doesn't mean you don't have to grow up as an adult," she chided.
After an awkward moment of silence she then continued, "We still need to finish the plans for apprehending these several magical fugitives in the states."
"Remind me again just where will we find these people," stated Harry.
"Well, the two men will be found in Texas and Pennsylvania," replied Daphne, "but the trickiest one will probably be the woman they are hunting down somewhere in California or Nevada."
"What information do we have from the FBI Magical Divisions reports?" asked Harry.
"Just the basics, what they are wanted for, and the historical documents about when they were finally captured." Daphne then opened one of the folders in front of her. "Roger 'Mad-dog' Tannin was arrested by the Magical FBI in August 1982, outside of Wichita Falls. He was wanted for destroying several muggle homes and the deaths of dozens of muggles who lived in trailer parks. He was using a complex spell that caused damage that appeared to be from a tornado touching down in the area. Apparently he would destroy these villages after attacking and raping the women. The magical FBI finally became involved after several of the women from one of these unusual tornadoes were not found until days later, many miles from where they used to live."
"What's so unusual about that?" asked Harry.
"The women were not killed by the storm, for starters. The Avada Kedavra was used on them," added Daphne with a chill in her voice.
"But why was the Magical FBI even called in on these cases? Muggles often explain death by killing curse as simple sudden cardiac arrest." Harry puzzled over the information.
Daphne then continued with the case histories of the women and the storms. "The weather service did not have any storms in the areas of the several attacks that occurred that could account for the tornadoes. The small towns that were attacked were quite remote so it was just assumed that a freak storm took place. Someone in the FBI got wind of these freak storms and decided to investigate, initially claiming that the attacks might be based on aliens or some such paranormal activity. That eventually got the attention of the Magical FBI who discovered what was going on. They also had a long history of dealing with Mr. Tannin who has a well documented predilection for being less than kind to women, whether they are muggles or witches."
"Seems like just the sort of guy we want to bring to justice," commented Harry. "It's just a shame that we have to wait until just before he gets caught to grab him and present him to the Magical FBI. It would be nice to be able to stop him before he attacks anyone else."
Daphne sighed, "But we can't take the chance of changing the time-line too much. I know it's frustrating, but we need to be careful with how much we do."
Harry kissed her softly and then added, "Of course, you're right dear. I guess we need to figure out where we need to be to find him the day before the Magical FBI finally catches up with him. So who's the next one we need to catch?"
"That would be Marvin Boggs. He has a history of being a little unbalanced at best. He used to work for the magical FBI and then he went on a killing spree, mostly aimed at taking out former colleagues in the Magical FBI. He was holed up in the swamps of Louisiana, but he was finally caught when he was trying to fit in the midst of the Amish community in central Pennsylvania," she concluded.
"That one doesn't sound so hard to catch," surmised Harry.
"I wouldn't be so sure," said Daphne as she shook her head. "The report indicates he is more than just a little paranoid. Not sure how easy he will be to catch and he can be quite dangerous."
Harry smiled at that comment. "And I'm not dangerous?" he asked rhetorically.
Daphne ignored Harry's question. "He was finally captured in May of 1985, so that hopefully would put enough time in between apprehending Tannin and going after Boggs that he wouldn't be worried you would be after him."
"And why would he even think I was going after him?" asked Harry.
"He's smart. He seems to still have access to the magical FBI information network. And he is more than a little paranoid. He probably would be thinking you're coming after him as soon as he hears that you have caught Tannin. Yes, he IS that paranoid." Daphne shook her head in frustration. "You don't need to make any of this any more difficult you know."
"And how am I making any of this more difficult?"
"Because, Mr. Pevensie," replied Daphne, "you are too over confident in your own abilities and skills that you think you will always come out ahead, no matter who you are facing, and that just might get you killed one day. Or worse."
"What could be worse than getting killed?" wondered Harry.
"Nearly getting killed and getting me worried," stated Daphne with a firmness in her tone that startled Harry. "Because if you go and do something really stupid and mess this whole thing up I'll be coming after you and you might wish you had been killed."
Harry leaned back away from her. "Whoa, a little over reaction there much?"
"No," asserted Daphne. "I lost you once for twenty years, even if I didn't realize it, so I am not about to let you go and mess up everything between us ever again."
"Point taken," offered Harry, feeling a little bit put off. "But there are risks in what we are doing."
"Which is precisely why we need to plan this all out so well in advance," chided Daphne.
"And the third person?" asked Harry tentatively.
"She goes by the name of Chloƫ. Usually. She has also used the names Athena and Theresa. She has been more of a black widow type, getting close to rich men, be they wizards or muggles, and once she gets them to marry her, and she is sure she will inherit their riches, she kills them off," finished Daphne.
Harry furrowed his brow, "That's all she has done?"
"That's all?" came the sarcastic reply from Daphne. "Isn't that enough?"
"But to get her to the top of the Magical FBI most wanted," explained Harry, "I figured she would have had to off more than a couple of old men."
"She has, or will have killed at least 8 husbands by 1985," Daphne added with a matter of fact tone. "But it's not just the number of men, the muggles died in spectacular accidents that were eventually explained after a magical investigation. The wizards had what would be described as unique and horrible deaths."
Harry gave a concerned look at his wife. "But if they know so much about her, why hasn't she been apprehended?"
"Apparently she makes Bellatrix Lestrange seem stable and kind," dead panned Daphne.
"Well, it will still be a little while before we deal with that one," concluded Harry.
AN: Another chapter done - and a little longer than the last few. Next stop - America - then on to England in the 1990s - ie, when Harry was in school.
