The Boy Next Door
Part II
New Summary: Fifteen months after the events of Part I finds Harry Potter post-war. While victorious, Harry can't seem to get things back to normal and he soon becomes obsessed with confronting Pyro. Upon meeting him again, things don't go as expected, at least not how Harry consciously expected things to turn out. Harry soon finds himself in the middle of a mutant conflict and, for once, his role as the Chosen One, even a wizard, is not to blame.
Pairing: Slash. Harry/Pyro
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the X-Men. J.K. Rowling, Marvel, and others have that honor.
Spoilers: HP 1-6. AU for summer of HP7. X1-3, First Class.
Warnings: Slash (not too explicit). Strong Language. Adult Concepts. Sexual Content. Violence/Abuse.
A.N. I'm back. Here's the promised Part II! This first chapter is very Harry and wizarding world heavy. Also, sorry about the OCs but unfortunately I will have to use them in this story to fill up the world a bit. As for Summers, he was a Hufflepuff not assigned a year in the books so I'm taking liberties. On Brotherhood members, meanwhile, I'm going to try to stick to the characters but my characterization will be very off. As I'm working with the movies and have never paid much attention to Brotherhood characterizations, a lot of it I'm making up.
Chapter 10: Hero
Fifteen months later….
Harry sighed as he sat down on his bed. Another day of Auror training. Every day, Harry felt surprised by what he still didn't know. Sure, he never finished school but he thought the whole war-thing would help out more. It wasn't exactly that it didn't. Harry was great with tactics and the hands on stuff but his spell tool-kit was terrible. He had always depended on Hermione for that stuff. Now he was expected to know it himself.
It was getting increasingly frustrating and Harry was quickly losing energy. He had always wanted to be an Auror, but now he was just plain tired all the time. He thought winning the war would make a difference, but now he was more miserable than ever. He refused to get back together with Ginny. He wasn't the same person who had been half in love with her. Auror training wasn't enough like the real thing to give him any sense of purpose and, without the war, he didn't know who he was.
Who was Harry Potter without Voldemort? The wizarding world knew, of course. He was their hero. Someone to be gawked at and either respected or hated. But he didn't feel like that person. He had no idea what he felt like. Not one idea at all.
"There you are," came Hermione's voice from the door. Harry glanced over at her curiously. She rolled her eyes at him. "You were supposed to come to dinner with Ron and me, remember? Honestly, I don't know why you insist on living here by yourself in this depressing place."
It was a familiar rant. She didn't understand why he wanted to live in Grimmuald Place and why he couldn't just live with either her or Ron. How could she? He barely understood it himself. All he knew is that he felt just a bit closer to all the people they had lost when he was there.
"Sorry, I forgot," Harry offered her a half-smile. He checked his watch. "I didn't realize it was so late." She didn't seem surprised as she threw him a set of clothes.
"Go shower. Ron and I will wait," she informed him before backing out of the room. He did as she said and soon they were on their way to dinner in Hogsmeade.
"It's not that I don't want to work at the joke shop," Ron said as they sat down at their table. "Just day in and day out I keep expecting something out of George, anything, and I'm not getting it."
"You can't blame him," Hermione said as she waved over Rosemerta. Harry wished she hadn't. It drew more attention to their table and more people began staring at him and whispering amongst themselves. Harry returned his attention to his friends. "It's only been a few months. He needs more time."
"I know that," Ron rolled his eyes at her. "It just doesn't stop it from being strange." He seemed to have enough of the topic. Ron's way of dealing was ignoring. He tried to think about Fred as little as possible these days. Harry wished he could say the same. Some days it felt like all he thought about was Remus or Tonks, or any of the others. Especially any time he visited little Teddy.
Ron turned to look at Harry. "How's Auror training?" he asked almost wistfully. Part of him had wanted to go with Harry but the war had finally taught Ron how precious his family was to him. Harry wouldn't have thought that was a lesson anyone had to actually learn.
Harry sighed. "I don't know what they expect from me. It's like they're finally getting what I've been saying all along. I'm barely average."
Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "You're way beyond average, Harry. You just have to expand your spell knowledge. I happened to overhear a conversation between Madame Bones and Kingsley. They're very impressed with you."
Harry suspected she was just trying to make him feel better but didn't comment. Rosemerta finally made it to their table.
"Two firewhiskeys and a butterbeer?" Rosemerta asked. She at least hadn't taken to gawking at and making a big deal about him. Harry shot her a grateful look.
"Make mine a firewhiskey this week," Hermione requested.
Ron and Harry turned to look at her. She shrugged. "It's been a bad week."
"Coming right up, honey," Rosemerta smiled. "And the usual for food?" All three nodded.
As she walked away she shot a glare over at a few excited witches. "Hush up you four. Haven't you ever seen a war hero before?" Ron snorted.
"So why's it been a bad week, Hermione?" Harry asked, trying to avoid the topic of his training.
Hermione sighed. "Some of the older apprentices have brought up the fact that I never finished Hogwarts. Madame Bones is arranging me to take my NEWTs just to shut them up."
"Why do you even have to take those? You can obviously keep up with the work," Ron said, ears going a little bit red as he got protective over his girlfriend.
"Jealousy, I suppose," Hermione responded. "At least that's what Madame Bones said. I've never been so relieved to have someone so solidly on my side." Hermione had been recruited almost immediately after the war ended for a wizarding law and government apprenticeship. Harry couldn't think of anyone better suited for the apprenticeship than Hermione. He was about to comment on that when their drinks arrived. Harry gulped his down and asked for another. This one he sipped as Hermione sent him disapproving looks.
They had just gotten onto the topic of Fleur's pregnancy when they were interrupted by Rosemerta. She carried over another firewhiskey. "Harry, this comes from the woman at the bar," she nodded over to a pretty brunette, probably in her early twenties. Harry glanced at it warily. "I poured it myself. No love potions, I promise." It may have sounded a bit paranoid but Harry had had love potions poured into his drinks by admirers once or twice. Thankfully, they were never very good potions and he could always tell by the smell, something like books, cars and smoke, which Harry tried not to think about.
"Another girl, huh Harry?" Ron elbowed him with a smile. Harry glared over at him.
"Can you tell her I don't accept drinks?" Harry asked Rosemerta. Harry had learned fairly quickly not to accept drinks from admirers.
"This one's a reporter," she told him. Harry must've pulled a face because Rosemerta sent him a smile.
"Then I definitely don't accept drinks," he said.
Rosemerta shrugged. "I'll pass on the message," she said as she carried the drink away.
"Maybe you should think about getting back into the game," Hermione commented.
Harry stared at her as Ron asked, "What game?"
"The dating game," she responded. At Ron's blank look she continued, "It's a muggle saying." She turned back to Harry. "You haven't dated anyone since Ginny and as it's fairly obvious you two are not getting back together, it's time to move on."
"Oh is it?" Harry asked dryly, taking a decent gulp from his firewhiskey. "And who do you want me to date? Some witch who hero worships me or a muggle girl I'd be pulling into this crazy world?" He didn't mention the few muggle girls he had slept with since the war ended. It hadn't meant anything. And Harry definitely didn't mention the possibility of another guy. He had thought about it a few times but no one seemed to spark his interest. Not like John had. Pyro. But Harry didn't want to think about him. He still wasn't sure of what he thought about the whole thing and he didn't plan on figuring that out. Still, sometimes he lingered.
"I see the problem," Hermione sighed. "But all witches aren't like that. How about some of the girls we went to school with? They at least know you."
"Like Romilda Vane?" Ron inserted with a grin. Hermione glared, opening her mouth to respond, but she was interrupted. The brunette reporter had joined them.
"Harry Potter? I'm Jocelyn Dawlish, JD for short, a reporter with the Daily Prophet," she offered her hand. Harry shook it reluctantly. He didn't exactly need bad press. "Could I possibly have a moment of your time?"
"Sorry I don't take interviews," Harry responded coolly. Hermione's foot found his shin.
"Well, it's not so much an interview I'm interested in," she replied with a flirtatious smile. Ron choked on his drink and Hermione's eyebrows disappeared into her hair. "Oh I don't mean anything as tawdry as that. I only wish to warn you of an article I'm currently writing." Her smile changed to something like a challenge. "About the death of your uncle." Harry's stomach dropped and JD's smile widened. "The boy-who-lived, the savior of the wizarding world, a murderer? And the Order of the Phoenix itself covering it up." She shook her head.
Harry's eyes darted around the room to make sure no one was listening. Hermione, seeing this, quickly put up a spell to keep the conversation private. If only it was private from Ron and Hermione as well. He had no idea what JD was about to say.
"I was cleared of all charges," Harry pointed out as calmly as possible, but he couldn't help his glare. "The Order had nothing to do with that."
"So you admit to putting the memory charms on the muggle police yourself?" JD offered a smile reminiscent of Rita Skeeter's. "That is awfully impressive for anyone as badly injured as you were. Such strong spells too. But then again, I suppose you are the boy-who-lived."
"No one changed the outcome of the muggle's investigation of me," Harry said.
Something changed in JD's eyes. Perhaps she saw he was telling the truth by carefully choosing his words. "Even so…I believe the wizarding world will be incredibly interested in the hardships their hero has suffered. Child abuse?" She shook her head as if in sympathy, but her smile soon returned. "And what he is capable of. Thank you, Potter. This has been most enlightening." And with that she left.
It took all of Harry's energy not to bang his head against the table. Instead, he ended Hermione's spell and waved Rosemerta over for the check, careful to avoid his friends' worried glances.
"Harry—" Hermione started after they had taken care of the bill.
"Not here," Harry practically growled. He knew it would be too much to hope that they wouldn't broach the topic eventually. Especially now that it had popped up again.
Ron and Hermione followed him back to Grimmuald Place. He probably could've thrown them off by apparating someplace else instead but he was going to have to face them eventually. He had a feeling they wouldn't let him avoid the issue any longer, especially if it was about to become public knowledge. At least some of it.
So the three of them sat awkwardly in the drawing room for a few minutes before someone broke the silence. "How did she find out?" Ron asked.
"It was in the muggle news," Hermione said. "She must've been desperate for a story on Harry and, not finding anything new in the wizarding world went to the muggle." Despite herself, she sounded a little impressed. She caught herself but more irritatingly took to joining Ron staring him down. Again it was Ron who spoke up.
"You're not going to let us hear the true story from the Daily Prophet, are you?" he asked.
"I don't know. They don't seem to know much," Harry responded but his friends didn't look impressed. "Come on, you two know the story. I killed my uncle."
"In self-defense," Hermione corrected.
"Yeah, self-defense," Harry agreed. But had it been his only choice? Harry was a wizard. He could've stopped his uncle without stabbing him to death.
"The stabbing was self-defense," Hermione assured him, placing a hand on his knee. Harry knocked it off by moving his leg. "But Harry, I know the fire wasn't you. Your accidental magic wouldn't have sparked if you had already gotten yourself out of danger."
"Maybe I wanted to see him burn," Harry suggested darkly. "For what he did."
"That's not you, Harry," Hermione said gently. And she was right. That was someone else. That was John—Pyro—who would've wanted his father to burn for hurting him, so instead he got Harry's uncle. Hermione sighed. "You forget sometimes, Harry, that I grew up muggle, that I'm still connected to the muggle world through my parents. It's funny, isn't it, that the Brotherhood was silent after Alcatraz and Pyro popped up again so shortly after what happened to your uncle, for which he was a key suspect."
"He popped up again in Canada," Harry pointed out. "Not here. Coincidence."
"And odd that you remember so easily where he popped up fifteen months ago," Hermione replied, eyebrows rising. She got him there. He could have argued but his excuses were already shaky and he just walked into her little trap.
"Mate, what happened?" Ron asked. Harry didn't want to look at him. He didn't want to see the worry.
"You're right," he said more to Hermione. "I didn't burn my uncle, but I killed him all the same. There was too much blood for him to have survived. Yes, Pyro burned him. He also dragged me out of the house before it went up."
"Why?" Ron sounded confused.
Harry looked at the floor and took a breath before steeling himself. "I don't know," he finally said. "I don't know why the Brotherhood was on Privet Drive and I don't know why Pyro did what he did."
"Remus said you were friends," Hermione prompted.
Harry's jaw tensed, both at the comment and the mention of Remus. Why was she pushing this? He admitted Pyro's involvement. What more did she want from him? He didn't know why Pyro got involved. He didn't even know if they were friends. Once he let the anger come, it was like it erupted inside of him. "I don't know if we were friends," Harry said glaring at her. "Maybe he thought he was doing me a favor. Like a thank you for the fun times."
"Fun ti—"
"For fuck's sake, Hermione, what do you want from me!" he was on his feet now, yelling. "We screwed around! While people were dying and the Order was fighting Voldemort, I spent my time messing around with a murderer. Is that what you want to know?" Harry ran a hand through his hair and turned away. He didn't want to see their faces right now.
"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, putting a hand on his shoulder. But Harry knew that's how she would react. She would feel bad for him. Ron would be the one who was disgusted. Harry shook her hand off his shoulder.
"Leave me alone, Hermione," he told her.
"But Harry—"
"I said. Leave. Me. Alone," he gritted out. He didn't wait for them to leave. Storming out of the drawing room, he ran down the stairs and out the door. He needed something to drink. And someone to help him forget again.
PAGE BREAK
"You wanted to speak to me Madame Bones?" Hermione asked as she shut the office door behind her.
"Not just me," Madame Bones responded. When Hermione turned, she was surprised to spot Shackelbolt sitting in the chair in front of Madame Bones' desk. It wasn't exactly strange. The two of them often spent time in each other's offices. As Shackelbolt was expected to make a bid for Minister soon and Madame Bones stood as his closest ally, it was to be expected.
Madame Bones conjured another seat for her and gestured towards it. Hermione sat, looking between the two. "This is about Harry isn't it?" Since that night, Hermione had only caught passing glimpses of Harry in the Ministry. He was diligently avoiding her a week now. She probably could've put a stop to it but she wasn't sure what she'd say even if she did. She hadn't expected him to admit to some sort of affair with Pyro. She sighed. "Is he okay?"
"I was hoping you could answer that," Shackelbolt admitted, looking worried at her response.
"Harry doesn't share everything with me. What's wrong?" Hermione asked, a little briskly considering she was speaking to her boss and the man that would probably be the next Minister of Magic.
"Potter has been off all week," Shakelbolt explained, ignoring her tone. "First he showed up to Saturday's training hung over. As he is young and many a trainee has showed up on a Saturday morning a little hung over, I did not think much about it." He paused.
"But…" Hermione prompted.
"Potter has always been angry. It is in the way he fights, in the passion he had in the war, but he has always held it back in training." Shackelbolt leveled her with a look. "This week he did no such thing. He may be proving why we accelerated him through the program but, if this continues, someone will get hurt. And it won't be Potter."
Hermione understood now. Harry had been claiming that he was struggling with training, but Harry only really tended to excel in real life, dangerous situations, when he couldn't afford to hold back. But there were other reasons, too. Anger always made Harry more powerful, if at the expense of intelligence. The war, and the events before it, had always been personal for Harry.
She sighed. "There's a reporter," she told the two. "She plans to run a story about last summer."
"Last summer?" Madame Bones questioned.
"His uncle's death. I told you about this," Shackelbolt said almost absentmindedly.
"Oh," Madame Bones remained silent for a moment. "He is worried about this coming to light?" she asked Hermione.
"I don't think so," Hermione said slowly. Harry's experiences in his fourth and fifth year made him almost immune to media and public opinion. "I think it just brought up things he has repressed. Harry doesn't cope. He just moves on to various degrees of success and this time, if you'll excuse my language, it's biting him in the ass."
Madame Bones snorted despite herself but Shackelbolt looked worried. "I do care for Potter but I cannot pretend that his well being is not important to me for other reasons. Potter is too vital in my plans for the wizarding world. We cannot afford for him to stumble now."
Hermione tried not to be annoyed. She understood that Shackelbolt was just being honest and that the wizarding world was still struggling, but Harry was her friend first and foremost. And he was struggling.
"What can we do?" Madame Bones asked.
"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "I don't know how to help him."
PAGE BREAK
"Leaving already?" asked the blonde—Kim, Harry remember—the sheets pooling around her. Harry tried not to stop and stare, instead concentrating on zipping his fly. It was a relief he didn't use his glasses anymore-Kingsley had insisted he either get his eyes fixed or get magical contacts, telling him he had been lucky so far no one had thought to simply summon his glasses in the middle of a battle—otherwise discreetly leaving after sex would be so much harder.
"It's late," he responded, checking his watch again. He hadn't meant to fall asleep afterwards. "I have a meeting this morning."
Kim's eyebrows rose. "Like a university interview?" she asked. Sometimes Harry forgot that, to the muggle world, in many ways he was still a kid. Not that Kim was much older than himself. At least not that he could tell.
"Sure," Harry responded, looking for his shirt.
"It's near the lamp," she informed him.
"Thanks," he said as he grabbed for it. After pulling it on, he stood awkwardly there for a moment. "Uh, last night…it was…"
"Fun?" Kim offered with a grin. "Go to your interview." She practically shooed him. "We both agreed this was a one night stand. Lord knows why a boy like you has one night stands. You were so careful to make sure you were not taking advantage of me it was endearing."
Harry winced. "You know, endearing is not really a word most guys want to hear in reference to themselves."
"And yet I use it anyway," she lay back down. "Come by that bar again, won't you?" She offered her lazy grin again. "It's nice to a have a no strings hook-up with someone you know isn't an asshole."
Harry offered her a small smile and as he left. He checked his watch again. He didn't have time to go home and shower. Once he was safe in an alley and sure no one watching, he waved his wand and pulled on the set of robes he conjured before apparating to the Leakey Cauldron.
Harry prepared himself before leaving the designated apparation spot. At first people ignored him but soon the customary whispers started once people realized exactly who he was. He wished he could've worn his invisibility cloak or something. The whispers were very quickly getting louder. It felt almost as if people were shouting by the time he spotted Kingsley and Madame Bones. He slipped into the booth across from them.
"Why are we meeting here?" Harry asked a bit distastefully.
"Because I refuse to go into the office this early on a Sunday morning," Madame Bones said. "And Kingsley here is refusing on breaking his Sunday rituals."
"I spent too many Sundays during the war in hiding. After nearly thirty years of a Leakey Cauldron Sunday breakfast. I ordered you breakfast," Kingsley informed him. "I hope you don't mind."
Harry figured it would be impolite to tell him he wasn't hungry. Madame Bones and Kingsley made idle chit chat as they waiting for their breakfast, while Harry dutifully ignored the stares.
Unfortunately, this couldn't last. "Excuse me, Harry Potter, sir?" A small boy asked. He was accompanied by his mother who kept smiling at him.
"Yes," Harry replied hesitantly. He still wasn't used to dealing with small children.
"Can I have your autograph?" He asked so quietly that Harry almost didn't hear him. Harry hated these moments. He hated saying no to kids but he just couldn't bring himself to hand out autographs.
"What's your name, kid?" Harry asked, turning fully to him now.
"Mark," the kid responded hopefully. Harry found himself thinking about little Mark Evans.
"Listen, Mark, I don't really do autographs," Harry said, hating it when Mark's face fell. "I don't think I can explain it in a way you could really get." Harry tried not to look at the mother's face as her reached into his pocket. He tried to keep as many of these as possible on him for these situations. "Tell you what, though. If you and your mother bring this to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, they'll give you a full tour." Harry handed the kid the slip of paper with Fred and George's logo, happy to see the kid's face split into a grin.
"Oh mum, can we go, please?" he turned to her eagerly.
"I suppose so, Mark honey," she sighed, though she shot a glare at Harry.
"Yes!" Mark jumped up and down. "Oh thank you Harry Potter, sir."
"It's just Harry," he offered a tight smile and the kid took off, dragging his mother behind him.
"Clever way around autographs," Madame Bones offered. "Lucky you have such close friends in a joke shop. But what do you do, I wonder, for your lady fans? Drinks? Maybe a coupon for Veela Fantasies?"
"What's Veela Fantasies?" he asked, a bit worried.
"A lingerie store, Potter," Kingsley told him, trying to hide his grin.
"Of course not," Harry made a face. He recovered once her realized Madame Bones was making fun of him. As their food finally arrived, he continued. "It's just harder saying no to kids."
"Have you ever considered just signing your name? It is probably easier," Madame Bones said as she dug into her eggs.
"I didn't do anything more deserving of fame than anyone else who fought in the war," Harry said, pushing his eggs around. "It just doesn't seem right."
"You only defeated Voldemort himself, Potter," Madame Bones commented. "You succeeded where even Dumbelore could not, ridding the world of the Dark Lord and his wretched Horcruxes, not to mention freeing Hogwarts from Death Eater control."
"I had help in all that," Harry pointed out. "And I just stood there. It's Voldemort's fault he tried to kill me with the wrong wand."
"Oh, I have one," Kingsley said around his food. "Marching into the Forbidden Forest, sacrificing your life so we could win the war."
"Everyone did that night," Harry argued, glaring at the man. Why was he pushing this? Harry was no different than any war hero, except that if he was smarter or stronger it could've ended sooner.
"Everyone fought that night, some knew it might mean their deaths," Madame Bones agreed. "But no one laid down his life, knowing he would die. No one but you."
"What's the point of all this?" Harry snapped. Madame Bones' eyebrows disappeared into her hair at his tone. Harry softened up. "Why did you want to meet?"
"We are only pointing out that you are a symbol, Potter," Kingsley said. Harry rolled his eyes. "But beyond that, despite what you may believe, you are a war hero and we believe your contribution to the wizarding world is not over. You will accomplish many things in your lifetime." Kingsley leveled him with a serious look. "Potter, I am about to put in my bid for Minister of Magic and I would like your help."
Something stirred in Harry. "I'm not a politician, Kingsley," Harry replied slowly.
"Perhaps not," Madame Bones responded. "But you are a political figure. That is not something you can escape."
And Harry was really worried they were right. The war was over. He did his job. Only it seemed like the job would never end. They thought he was a hero.
PAGE BREAK
A couple of weeks later, after a few hours of drinking through his own small supply of firewhiskey, Harry found himself at the same bar as usual, looking for Kim. It felt like campaigning was eating up his soul. It didn't help that Hermione kept trying to talk to him and Ron wasn't trying at all. The nightmares had also started again.
Kim quickly spotted him once he sat down at the bar. It was a lot emptier on a Sunday night. "What can I get you?" she asked from her place behind the bar. Harry tended to prefer the bartenders. They were generally sober. Not that he worried about that anymore. Kim and he had an agreement.
"Whiskey coming right up." She prepared his drink, then stuck around once she handed it to him. "You know, most people your age come in here with friends. They order shots, beer."
"So?" Harry asked, downing his whiskey and looking for another one.
"So, you? You're trying your best to forget something. And I don't like it." Kim was a nice girl. She didn't want anything from him, except maybe sex, and she stayed out of his business. Usually.
"Careful," Harry warned. "I think I see some strings attaching." She had said that to him the week before when he had brought her some food, knowing that she was working a long shift.
"Please," she rolled her eyes. "I'm just worried that the brooding thing might stop being sexy any second." That got a smile out of Harry. "Anyway, are you here for drinks or me tonight? Because I don't get out until late."
"Drinks are fine," Harry told her. At the moment, he was tired enough for that to be true. At least in the muggle world he could drink without people recognizing him and asking for autographs. Since he started to help Kingsley out, the requests for autographs had sky-rocketed and, as these things tended to go, more people than ever hated him.
"Hey, bartender, turn that up," came a shout from the back. Kim turned to the t.v. and hit the volume button.
"—the work of rival gangs," spoke the reporter. "The NYPD was at a loss for what to do and if it wasn't for the interference of the X-Men, who knows how it would have turned out. We go now to the scene where reporters are talking to Iceman."
The scene shifted to what Harry supposed was New York though you couldn't see much beyond the police cars, fire trucks, firemen and police milling about behind the form of Iceman, or Bobby Drake as was apparently his real name, who was indeed talking to reporters.
They seemed to have been coming into the middle of an interview. "Yes, we were informed of the situation fairly early on and left as quickly as possible," Iceman was saying.
"What exactly happened here today?" an off-screen reporter asked.
"This seems to have been a territory war between two gangs," Iceman answered. "So far we haven't seen any evidence of mutant involvement whatsoever."
"But what about the fires? Doesn't it seem likely that the Brotherhood—"
Iceman cut him off, his mouth set in a grim line. "Not every fire is Pyro's work. This one was just gasoline and Molotov cocktails. Anyone can do it." He seemed annoyed. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to join the rest of my team. The police can handle the questions from here."
Kim lowered the volume and Harry returned his eyes to his drink. "Crazy, huh? The X-Men hotline must ring off the hook. I bet they get a call every time something sets on fire. They—"
"Are you sure you can't get out until later?" Harry asked very suddenly. "Never mind, sorry." He pulled some muggle money out of his pocket, indiscriminately putting some down. "Keep the change. I got to go."
Kim watched him, eyebrows raised. "Alright. I'll call you when I get out."
Harry sent Kim a wave as he left. Right now he just wanted to get home. And Kim wasn't who he was thinking about anyway.
PAGE BREAK
Harry was glad that he had gotten into the habit of actually reading the Daily Prophet again. At least he was prepared. Jocelyn Dawlish had finally published that article, highlighting him as his uncle's murderer. At least she hadn't kept Vernon Dursley absolutely innocent, though, admitting his violent confrontations with Harry, but she still claimed that Harry's actions were those of revenge not self defense. She further suggested that it was a pattern of Harry's, that his motivations during the war were only those of self-preservation and vengeance for his parents' murder.
So Harry was prepared as he made his way to Kingsley's office, listening to the not so hushed conversations around him.
"Honestly, I'm not surprised. The Daily Prophet tried to show us how hinged he really—"
"I wouldn't believe it one second—"
"I'm sure Potter had his reasons. I mean he's a hero—"
"Rumor has it he never liked those muggle relatives of his. He probably would've joined Voldemort if it wasn't for—"
"The muggle was hurting him. If it were me—"
"He set his uncle on fire for Merlin's sake! Don't you think that's a little overkill for self-defense?"
Harry clenched his jaw and sped up, pushing through the crowds who watched him warily. Finally, he made it to Kingsley's office. The secretary tried to stop him but he pushed right into the office. He couldn't listen anymore. Besides, he knew Kingsley was expecting him.
That didn't stop the somewhat surprised expression from appearing on Kingsley's face over his paperwork.
"Potter, why the sudden entrance?" he asked as Harry threw himself in his usual seat.
"Did you not see the Daily Prophet?" Harry responded incredulously.
A grim look appeared on Kingsley's face. "Ah, yes. Has anyone said anything to you?"
"No," Harry rolled his eyes. What did it matter if they had? He already heard everything they had to say. "But I think I got the gist of what they're thinking."
Kingsley placed his paperwork back into the drawers. "Then you know, Potter, that just as many people, perhaps more, are on your side in this."
"My side?" Harry glared. "I did what I needed to do to protect myself, as usual. I didn't need anyone's help." Harry took a breath to calm himself down. "They're questioning my reasons for fighting the war, Kingsley. They're calling me a murderer."
"And many more still claim you as their hero," Kingsley argued, his voice probably meant to be soothing. "I think this can still be fixed."
"Fixed?" Harry asked incredulously. "My uncle's dead. It's too late for him."
"Not that, Potter," Kingsley sounded exasperated now. "Be reasonable, Potter. I am talking public opinion. We simply gather the press and offer your side of the story. You tell them what really happened that night."
But that was the problem, wasn't it? He was still covering up for Pyro and he couldn't just stop. It would just cause more people to hate him, to question him. Why would he cover up for a mutant terrorist?
"No press, Kingsley," Harry said strongly.
"But Potter—"
"I mean it Kingsley. I rather step down or something." Though Harry wasn't sure what exactly he was stepping down from. The pedestal? "It's no one's business. They wouldn't understand." How could they when he still didn't?
"What do you mean step down?" Kingsley asked slowly.
"Withdraw from the Auror corp, from your campaign," Harry said determinedly. He put up a hand to stop Kingsley's argument. "Not forever. Things just need to cool down. Maybe I just need to cool down." Harry offered a dark smile. "Come on, Kingsley, you have to admit…I'm not in the best of shape right now."
Kingsley sighed, but didn't argue. Which was good. Harry had too much mourning to do and a few things he needed to figure out before he could be of any use to anybody. He knew that now.
PAGE BREAK
Harry found Summers quickly after he left Kingsley's office. Summers, a black haired wizard not too much older than Harry, specialized in magical forensics for the Aurors office.
"Hey, Summers," Harry announced as he shut the office door behind him.
"Potter," Summers responded carefully. He had never been a fan of Harry, never treating him badly, just indifferently. "I'm assuming you need something."
Harry decided to get straight to the point. "A favor actually." Summers looked surprised. They weren't, after all, on favor terms but Harry was hoping for something to go his way. "I heard you've been developing methods in tracking dark wizards." Harry took a breath. "Could you track someone down for me?"
"You don't plan on killing anyone, do you?" Summers asked, but he didn't seem too worried about it. "Relax Potter. It was a joke. I rarely believe the stuff they publish in that paper. Still, you do have a temper…"
"I'm just looking for someone I used to know," Harry said. "It's personal. And no, I'm not going to kill anybody."
"I wouldn't say that," Summers snorted. "We'll probably need you to kill someone else someday." Harry wasn't impressed and Summers made no move as if he was going to help him. So Harry turned to leave, a little frustrated. "Wait, where are you going? I didn't say I wasn't going to help you." Summers studied him for a moment. "I can show you a spell, but you need something of that person's. Do you have anything?"
Harry nodded, trying to keep the grin off his face as he thought of that cell phone tucked in one of his drawers. "Yeah, I have something."
"Good. And Potter," Summers called as Harry went to leave again. "No more favors, alright? You can consider us even now."
"For what?" Harry asked, eyebrows furrowed. He never really had any contact with Summers.
"You brought my best friend's body back," Summers said, meeting Harry's gaze. Harry got a flash of a black-haired boy shining a 'Potter Stinks' badge in his face.
"Thank you," Harry said.
"Whatever." And Summers returned to his work.
PAGE BREAK
John was bored. The place was crowded and the music was blasting but none if it was entertaining. One of Magneto's new recruits was also talking his ear off, some blond who called himself Avalanche. John looked around the mutant club. Almost everyone there had tattoos proudly displayed, marking themselves as mutants. A few didn't, mostly Brotherhood members. It was a place where everyone knew they were among their own kind and the police were banned from raiding without reason due to agreements with the X-Men. But the people here were more likely to side with the Brotherhood than the X-Men so John figured that was a stupid move on the X-Men's part. Brotherhood members like him were given practically royal treatment here.
Then again, John had no love for the people around him either. He was proud to be a mutant, but he had enough survival instincts not to mark himself as recognizable either. Besides, the marks weren't marks of pride but of hatred for humans. John may have shared that hatred but at least he knew he was better than humans, not just different. He just didn't see how being the jolly green giant was evolutionarily beneficial.
"What are you thinking about?" Callisto asked, cutting Avalanche off. Since last summer, she had started to treat him with a bit more respect. He was the model Brotherhood member in some respects and back to being one of Magneto's most trusted. It would be stupid not to treat him with respect. Everyone knew that.
"Them," John nodded at the crowd of mutants.
"Great, isn't it?" Avalanche said. "It's nice not to be around humans."
Callisto sneered. "Try having to feel them."
John peered at her curiously. "What do humans feel like to you?"
"Nothing," she shrugged. "Empty." Her eyes turned towards the door. "Speaking of, someone should alert the employees here that there's a human among us."
Some of the Brotherhood members turned quickly to see what she was looking at, not that they would be able to tell. Usually John didn't let the low-level Brotherhood members tag along with himbut sometimes, on days like today when he was trying not to remember his old life, it was nice to be reminded of who he was and the power he now had. He wasn't just one of Xavier's pathetic, peace loving students anymore.
"Maybe we should just handle it," one of them said, John couldn't remember his name. In fact, he didn't know any of their names. "Have some fun."
John watched them leave and bully the oblivious human off somewhere. Avalanche, meanwhile, tried to strike up another conversation with him. "I'm going out to smoke," he finally said, pulling out his pack of cigarettes.
"Couldn't he just smoke here?" he heard Avalanche ask us he left. "I mean, who's going to stop him. He's Pyro."
"I think he's just trying to get away from you," Callisto replied, and John could hear the grin in her voice.
John heard voices in the alley, probably the Brotherhood members and the human. He didn't really feel like dealing with some stupid pissing contest right now so he was about to leave, but something made him stop.
"Don't you know you stumbled into Brotherhood territory?" one of the goons asked. John rolled his eyes. This was who Magneto recruited? People who thought they were in a gang?
"I figured as much, yeah," came a British voice that made John freeze for a moment. "But I'm looking for someone. And you can put that away, you know, it's not very intimidating."
"I can kill you in seconds with this."
"Good for you," the Brit responded. "Now, could you just point me in the direction of—"
"No need," John said as he rounded the corner, eyes landing on Harry Potter. He was a little taller now, his glasses gone, and somehow a bit more worn down. "Hello, Harry."
"John," Harry said, all but ignoring the mutants surrounding him. He still hadn't learned to worry about his own well-being apparently.
"By now you should've figured out it's Pyro," John said, lighting his cigarette with his igniters.
"I know who you are," Harry said softly.
Two of the Brotherhood members grinned, another looked confused. "Good. Now why were you looking for me?" John asked, taking a step to the side as if to circle Harry.
"Order your goons to leave and I'll tell you," Harry responded calmly, despite the fact that John was letting the flame flare. Then again, John never gave Harry a reason to fear him.
"Who says we'll take his—"
John interrupted the guy. "Leave."
"But—"
"Leave," John said, more forceful this time yet refusing to tear his eyes from Harry. He had the weirdest feeling in the pit of his stomach. Harry looked different. Older, harder.
They didn't argue again, leaving John and Harry to look at each other. "Now, why are you here?" John asked, playing with the flame.
Harry shrugged, for a moment looking like the sixteen year old from last summer. He was eighteen now, John remembered. "I don't know."
And John grinned.