Good Run of Bad Luck
By Ammie Hawk
Disclaimer: OMFG! I LIVE!
AN: Yes, contrary to popular belief, I am still alive… though my muse is about to be strangled. This chapter has been festering for some time, but I think it actually turned out rather well. So anyway, enjoy my, rather belated, first day of Christmas gift to all of you.
Chapter 9: Ghosts of the Past
Harry released the rope of hair and landed lightly on his feet. He turned to run in the opposite direction of his most feared professor at Hogwarts, only to change his mind half way through as he was struck by a sudden bout of inspiration. Narrowly missing the waiting arms of his brother, he darted over to the trio standing in the doorway.
"Who are you?" Trowa scowled at the intruders, specifically the one who'd addressed his baby brother, particularly confused by Harry's odd behavior.
"Unc'e Sev'rus," the chibi tugged on the dour man's pants.
"My name is Severus Snape," the Potions master deftly ignored the nuisance at his feet in favor of addressing the teen in front of him. "And you are?"
"Enough," the tall blond cut in, before a fight broke out, which would inevitably happen if the look on the former Heavyarms pilot's face was anything to go by. Though he wasn't sure what his lover was talking about, there was no possible way the toddler in front of them could be the famous Harry Potter. "He is with me, 03. And before you ask, I am here because Une assigned me to take a case from 02."
"Unc'e Sev'rus," a pout formed on the cherubic face, why was everyone ignoring him? "LOOK AT ME!"
All eyes were instantly drawn to the child, surprised by his sudden outburst. None more so than the man in question, who met and held the stubborn emerald gaze.
'Don't tell them,' Harry thought desperately, hoping to silently convey his message across to his fellow wizard. 'Please don't tell them.'
"If you will excuse me for a moment, Zechs," Severus lifted Harry into his arms, carefully keeping his face neutral, "I'll let you conduct your business while I have a word with my godson."
The former professor closed the door behind himself, effectively blocking out the five incredulous stares that were directed at the pair of them. Once they were alone, Harry squirmed his way out of Snape's arms and landed squarely on his feet, utilizing his newfound grace.
"You're not my godfather," the neko growled. "Never say that again."
"Nor am I your uncle," dark eyes narrowed dangerously. "If you say it again, I will consider it well within my rights to take it out of your backside. Now what disaster did you wind up getting yourself into this time?"
"Let's get out of the hallway," Harry rolled his eyes. "They could come out at any minute, and I don't want them to know about me just yet."
"Because they are all evidently blind and are unable to see the ears and tail protruding from your miniscule body," Snape sneered.
He received a hardened emerald glare for his troubles, "Come on."
Harry led the former Potions professor into the kitchen and closed the door behind him. Snape drew his wand and pointed it at the door, muttering a spell under his breath. They took seats on opposite sides of the table, both now glaring intently at the other.
"I thought you were dead," the chibified wizard began without preamble.
"That makes two of us, Potter," Snape shook his head. "However, as you can clearly see, I am very much alive. Now, tell me what happened to you."
"Well," the former Gryffindor sighed, "after the battle was over, I woke up in a lower level of Grimmauld Place, I think. Ginny and Parkinson were there. They tried to get me to agree to marry Ginny and then, after I refused, Ginny tried to put the Imperio curse on me. After that failed, Parkinson fed me a potion. I passed out, and when I woke up again, I was shrunk."
"And the extra appendages?" a dark brow rose in curiosity.
"That happened while I was trying to escape," Harry shook his head. "After I woke up and realized what happened, I took off. I woke up Sirius' Mum and didn't hear the spells they cast, though I felt them hit me. I didn't even know about the ears and tail till Duo found me."
"I see," a frown marred the usually dour features. "And this potion, do you know anything else about it?"
"Only that it turned me into this," he motioned to his smaller body. "And that the girls acted as if I didn't know who they were."
"Clearly, Potter," Snape snorted, "you are once again a Wizarding marvel."
"How so?" Harry's shoulders slumped, he hated being different.
"In my extensive experience," the Potions Master leaned forward, folding his hands on the table, "there are only a handful of potions that will achieve the desired effect of turning an individual into a child. Of those, none of them let the drinker retain their memories of their former life, just the ones they had at the point they transformed to. All of those potions, if brewed incorrectly, are lethal. You seem to have taken a botched potion and have lived to tell about it."
"Of course," green eyes rolled in annoyance. "I'm the fucking boy-who-won't-die."
"Language, Potter," the former professor chided instantly.
Harry snorted, "I'm seventeen, technically an adult, I can say what I want." He bowed his head, and then glanced nervously through his fringe, "Do you think you can fix me?"
"It will take some time to figure out what potion they used, and of course what they did wrong," Snape frowned in thought, "but I should be able to make an antidote in a few days time."
"Really?" emerald orbs danced happily. "You'd do that for me? But I thought you hated me."
"Does nothing penetrate that thick skull of yours?" Snape rubbed his forehead agitatedly. "I know I gave you my memories, and that you obviously viewed them. The war is now over, Potter, there is no more need for a mask."
"Oh, right," the former Gryffindor smiled sheepishly. "Doesn't change the fact that you're a snarky git, though, sir."
"Watch it, Potter," dark eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Alright, alright," Harry giggled. "So what are you doing here anyway?"
"I am here with my… friend," the Potions Master shook his head. "But I feel within my rights to ask you the same question."
"Right," the chibi sighed. "I'm not really sure how it works, but apparently the guy with the really long bang is related to me. The best I can figure is that he's my long lost brother."
"What?" Snape almost toppled his chair as he quickly stood up.
"Well," Harry frowned, not sure what to make of his former professor's actions, "when Duo and Heero picked me up off the street, they took me to the Preventers and they took some blood and ran some tests on it, I think. But they said I was related to Trowa, somehow. At first they thought I was his son, which is just ridiculous, since I'm really seventeen."
The dour Potions Master started pacing the length of the room, his expression one of deep contemplation. The chibified wizard was about to ask him what he was doing when a loud CRACK sounded throughout the room. Harry jumped about a foot in the air, landing lightly on the back of his chair, hissing madly. Snape whirled around, wand raised and a spell on his lips, before his eyes registered just what had caused the disturbance.
"Kreacher is sorry to startle Master Harry," the little creature bowed low at the waist. "But Kreacher thought it was as good a time as any to bring Master his wand."
The neko hissed once more, but as the words registered as he stopped, but the hair on his tail was still fluffed out in agitation, "It's alright, Kreacher. But I thought I told you to bring it to me when I was alone?"
"Kreacher has tried, Master," the elf's face contorted in displeasure, "but there is never a time when those Muggles leave Master alone. And Kreacher thought it would be safe, since only the traitor Snape is here."
"He's not a traitor, Kreacher," Harry sighed, finally dislodging himself from the back of the chair. "And you won't talk about him like that."
"Yes, Master," Kreacher bowed and brought out a thin piece of wood. "But Kreacher is bringing Master his wand now. The bitches left it in my Mistress' room."
"Thank you, Kreacher," the chibi reached out and took the wand, tears of relief pooling on his lashes.
"Master is quite welcome," the elf bowed again. "Also, Master's Muggleborn friend is telling Kreacher to bring this to Master," he pulled out two parchment envelopes and held them out for Harry. "Kreacher knows he doesn't have to obey Master's friends, but Master's friend said it was important."
"Hermione sent these?" Harry frowned, taking the letters.
With his wand, he slit them both open and proceeded to read the contents. His eyes widened dramatically the further he got through them.
"I have to answer these now," his eyes darted around the kitchen, looking for something to write with.
A moment later, he was seated at the table once again, a pen he found in a drawer held in his hands. He flipped the first letter over and penned a letter to Hermione, she would know better than anyone what to do with his answer. He then sealed it with his wand and handed it back to Kreacher.
"Kreacher," he stared straight into the elf's eyes, "I need you to take this straight to Hermione. She'll know what to do. Just make sure the bitches are nowhere near her when you give it to her."
"Kreacher will do as Master instructs," Kreacher bowed, took the letter, and, with another CRACK, disappeared.
"Come, Potter," Snape's voice brought Harry out of his musings, "we should rejoin the others, as I'm sure they have finished their business and will soon be searching for us."
"Right," the little raven head bobbed in agreement.
8888888
Lady Une walked down the hallway of the Preventers' main branch toward her office. She held an open file in her hands and was quietly reading through it as she walked. When she finally reached her office, she opened the door without looking up, her secretary would've told her if someone was waiting inside for her. However, the sight that greeted her when she finally looked up once the door was closed proved that theory wrong.
Seated behind her desk, in her chair, was a tall, fair-haired man. He had his feet propped up on her desk and a file in his hands, obscuring most of his face. She took a step back toward the door, her hand groping blindly for the emergency security button.
"My, my, Lady Une," he said, not lowering the file, "you do seem to have your work cut out for you, though you seem to be taking care of it beautifully. Oh, and don't worry about security, my team will fix it so other people like us won't be able to enter without going through the front door."
"Who are you?" Une frowned, though there was something familiar about that voice that was niggling at the back of her mind.
"My dear lady," he finally lowered the folder, revealing highly amused cornflower eyes, "have you forgotten me already?"
"Mr. Treize?" she almost fell over in her astonishment, luckily the wall was there to break her fall. "You're supposed to be dead."
"Ah, but you see," Treize smiled as he pushed to his feet, "Treize Khushrenada is dead, except to his most intimate friends, oh and my new team, of course. I go by Tristan now, Tristan Roberts."
"But, but," the former OZ colonel stammered, trying in vain to wrap her head around this new turn of events.
Brown eyes darted rapidly over the once familiar man. Time had been kind to the former general. In fact, the only thing that seemed to be different about him was that his honey-colored hair now fell to just below his shoulder blades and was held back in a low ponytail.
"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you before this," he went over and took her by the hand, leading her to one of the chairs in front of the massive desk, "but for my ruse to work, I had to convince even those closest to me within OZ of my death."
"I… I see," she shook her head, trying to clear it.
"Now, my dear lady," he went back around the desk and took up her chair again, "I am actually here to discuss the new team implemented within this noble organization."
"New team?" she parroted.
"Yes," a frown marred the aristocratic features. "I was told that Kingsley informed you of our desire to place a team of wizards within your organization. I am the wizard in charge of said team, and as such, I require the details of the Preventers you are planning to place on my team."
"Oh, that team, right," she nodded, finally getting her bearings back.
"So you have the files of the agents under my command?"
"Honestly Mr. Treize," she pushed to her feet and rounded the desk, opening the middle drawer on the right, "who do you think I would put on a mission of this nature?"
A smirk blossomed across Treize's face as he took the proffered files, "Ah, but of course, the former Gundam pilots. I did wonder about the number you suggested. Also, I would like for you to arrange a meeting with them in the coming week. I have a few tools for them to have, and they need to meet the rest of my team."
"Of course," she couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled out of her. "Just like old times, Mr. Treize, isn't it?"
"Except for the fact that I do report to you now, yes," he chuckled. "And now that business is taken care of, how have you been, my dear lady?"
"I've been good," Une smiled, perching on the corner of her desk. "My girlfriend and I have been living together for the last six months or so. And Mariemaya has been a right angel. Speaking of Mariemaya, I can have her transferred over to your custody any time you wish."
"Why would I want that?" Treize frowned.
"She is your daughter after all, Mr. Treize," she quirked a brow, as if he was being coy. "It is only fitting that she lives with her father."
"I assure you, dear lady, that I have no daughter," he shook his head, "for children require one thing that I have never done."
"Oh?" the other brow joined its twin.
"You see, I have never been with a woman," the blond sighed, "a prerequisite for procreation."
"But then if she is not yours," she frowned. "I mean to say, who's is she?"
"I have no earthly idea," the former general shrugged. "But whoever told you she was mine lied to you."
"I see."
"Why don't you run her DNA through that charming database you set up after the war?" he suggested nonchalantly, examining his nails.
"She has already been put in the database," Une sighed, and then her frown deepened. "Speaking of the database, I'll need the rest of your team to register, not to mention the rest of the Wizarding population."
"When I meet with the other agents, I will have my team submit their DNA," he nodded. "As for the rest of the Wizarding population, that is another matter entirely and will have to be run through the International Confederation of Wizards. I will see what Kingsley can do about that."
"I guess I can't complain," she shook her head, acquiescing for the moment. "This whole society is new to me."
"It is quite a bit to take in at once," he smirked. "However, I shall take my leave now, I have much to do. I eagerly await your call about the coming meeting. Farewell, dear lady."
"Farewell, Mr. Treize."
With that he stood up and disappeared with a soft pop.
Ammie: Okay, first day down, kinda on the late side, but still... Hopefully I can keep it up... My muse can use all the encouragement he can get. Till next time...