So here you go, a longer chapter like I promised you after my ridiculously long absence. Before you start reading this chapter, I just want to say thank you for continuing reading this story, and essentially sticking by me despite my erratic updates. It's been a much-needed boost to my self confidence and drive. I hope you continue to read this, and enjoy it as much as I am.

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognise and everything you don't.

Reminders: Sarfaraz is Adonis' real name. That's how he thinks of himself so that's what he will be called while I'm writing in his pov. Caro is short for Carolina, the R.U. in infirmary scene of the previous chapter. She and Adonis are... close so they call each other by their real names unless they're in a professional setting.

Common and confusing abbreviations:

R.U.- Research Unspeakable

F.U.- Field Unspeakable

I.D.- Intelligence/Investigative Department

R.D.- Research Department

Warnings: Mild Language

Sarfaraz woke up with a loud groan and much swearing. His muscles seemed to scream at any movement, however small. The air in his room was sweltering; he felt suffocated by his blanket. He threw it off immediately and wrapped his arms around his bare torso, turning over and trying to go back to sleep. He rolled onto his back again and threw out his arms to his sides in frustration. It was no use. His body simply refused to obey him and his mind seemed to be out of control. There was no way he could get back to sleep now, despite his bone-deep exhaustion.

His eyes felt scratchy and irritated. The wound he'd lightly dressed last night was stinging and his neck was aching. Again. Altogether, he felt like shit.

And the day hadn't even begun.

He mentally ran over all the things he still had to do in his mind. There was the report he had to give in to Croaker on the mission he had been on with his fellow F.U.s when he had been forced to withdraw due to injury. The reminder of his wound had his thoughts turn to the healers he would have to enlist to treat his charges and the fact that he still had to write a letter to a mind healer or psychiatrist to deal with their psychological trauma. Then, there were also the issues of training schedules, budget, equipment and rolls of metaphorical red tape to get through. He groaned out loud. He hated paperwork.

The table where said paperwork was lying was unfortunately right within his line of sight as he painfully and reluctantly got out of bed, immediately souring his rapidly darkening mood. He glared at it and later, his reflection in the bathroom mirror after his morning shower. It was not as though he had self image issues, or that he looked particularly ugly today, he was just in a horrible mood.

First he would contact his friends, decided Sarfaraz as he quickly cleaned and bandaged his almost-healed wound. The I.D. had always had great connections, and it would be easier to get hold of a squib psychiatrist or a muggleborn that way. He thought Hermione Granger would find it easier to communicate with someone born into a different world than their parents, just like she was. Also, they tended to be less biased against non pureblooded wizards.

Then, he would have to type up the report of yesterday's disastrous mission. Okay, so it hadn't been disastrous... he'd simply, somehow, gotten in the way of a bomb. A stupid stupor nil pedicas too. He sighed, draining away the dirty water left after cleaning the wound. And nobody else had gotten even remotely as injured as he had. It was embarrassing.

He flipped open his mobile phone and called up Carolina while putting on his socks. Just as he slipped a brown dragonhide boot onto his left foot, she picked up. "Caro?"

"Sarfaraz," her cool, rich voice trickled through the line as Sarfaraz briefly looked for the laces before realising there weren't any. "How are you?"

He grimaced, the wound she was obviously asking about throbbing in response.

"Fine," he said curtly, not wishing to discuss it. He hastily diverted her, fingers fumbling with the other boot. "Any breakthrough?"

There was a slight scoff at the other end. "In what? The entries in the damned book, Atlantis, Regulus freaking Black, the Founders' memories or the bloody Horcruxes?"

Before Sarfaraz could answer, she said, "No matter. The answer is nil for all. Zero. Zilch. I feel useless," she finished rather bitterly and self-depreciatingly. Sarfaraz blinked. He was not expecting that, although he should have.

"Now Caro, you know that's not true. I can't imagine where the R.D. would be without you" There was silence. Sarfaraz paused, biting his lip as he quickly made his bed before continuing.

"I have to go and get the red tape done now. Harry Potter and the rest of the recruits need their healers and trainers, and I need my caffeine" he heard her chuckle slightly, mentally picturing the slight smile she often had on her light purple lips. Suddenly the fuzzy, warm feeling drained out of him as his mind caught up to what she had just said. The words had passed over his head due to his concern for her, but now that the sentimental crap was out of the way...

"Wait, what horcruxes?"

"I thought there was only ONE!" Harry nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Adonis' shout. He blinked at the kitchen door for a minute before blearily looking at the clock above the various cupboards and shelves and going back into his book about metamorphmagi. He turned to the door again when Adonis stormed in, rattling the utensils and picture frames, a phone pressed to his ear. He was wearing black jeans, his hair was wet and un-styled, and he looked utterly pissed.

"How come I didn't know of this?!" Harry could hear a faint murmur from the phone as the person on the other end replied. Adonis pulled out several teacups and mugs, turning the kettle on with his other hand as he did so. The phone was pressed between his right shoulder and right ear, looking as though it could slip and fall at any moment.

"No, you know what? Just transfer the whole damned thing to the I.D.'s high-level security server. Yes, that one. Delete all other soft copies, and burn the hard ones. Keep it strictly need-to-know" a brief pause ensued as Adonis switched on the coffee machine on the counter and shoved a dark blue mug under one of the nozzles. The look on his face showed that he had turned his full attention to whatever the other person was saying. Then- "I'll get it done; no, it's no problem at all. Just send it, and be quick about it. I'll have it secured". With a heavy sigh, the man placed the phone down on the counter, collected his mug of hot black coffee, and slid into the chair across from Harry, muttering several oaths under his breath all the while.

Harry stared at him, trying to think past his confusion and curiosity. "What was that?"

Adonis stared at him like he'd only just noticed him. His expression was still one of intense irritation, but his gaze was apologetic, perhaps even slightly amused. "Why, good morning to you too, Harry"

Harry's cheeks burned. "Sorry, Adonis. It's just, it doesn't seem to be a very good morning. For you, I mean. But, um, for what it's worth, good morning". He felt like cringing as soon as the words slipped out. Adonis still looked slightly amused, probably by his clumsy wording, but his brows were furrowed.

"No. No it isn't. And it's Sarfaraz"

"What?"

"My name. My real name is Sarfaraz Yusuf, though you can still call me Adonis if you wish. It only makes sense since we're practically living together"

Harry scrutinised him carefully. "Okay" he tested the name out on his tongue. "Sarfaraz". It sounded different from how Adonis had said it when it came out of his own mouth. It would take some getting used to.

Adonis- Sarfaraz sighed and stared into the contents of his mug absently. With a flick of his wand he made the steaming kettle pour tea into the mug that suddenly appeared in front of Harry.

"The R.D. has gained some extremely sensitive and, as far as we know, precise information regarding Voldemort and his followers"

Harry, who had only just started to lift the mug to his lips, abruptly put it down again. "What do you mean? What's the R.D.? Does it have anything to do with Sirius' brother and what happened yesterday?"

Ad- Sarfaraz straightened, putting down his now-empty mug and steepled his sinewy fingers together in an alarmingly Dumbledore-like manner.

"The R.D., the Research Department was analysing the letter written by Regulus Arcturus Black before he 'died' in 1979. It wasn't just an ordinary death, as you may have thought. He was a bright young Death Eater"- Sarfaraz ignored Harry's slack jaw at the two words- "who was perturbed by the evils committed by Voldemort and his fellow followers. The last straw was when his house elf was subjected to torture by Voldemort in the name of a 'mission' which was, in actuality, the testing of the security of an object that would take him one step closer to immortality.

Regulus slowly drained away the funds the Black family had been feeding Voldemort with and put down important information about the organisation of the Death Eaters and Voldemort's repulsive actions into his suicide note. He wrote that he had been disillusioned to the actual motives of the terrorists and to redeem himself, he'd do his best to destroy the object. Kreacher, his house elf, managed to find a loophole in his master's orders and brought him back before it was too late. He was, however, unable to destroy the object"

Harry just sat still for a few minutes, shocked speechless. Here was an example of youth brainwashing; this proved that whatever Hermione had said about victors writing history true. It proved that, in all the sides of any war, there were lives at stake, and not just in the 'might lose their life' sense, but in the cultural, emotional and psychological sense. People didn't just lose their lives, families and limbs to war; they lost their livelihoods, their way of living. It suddenly put war, earlier just a chess board with two, simple black-and-white sides, into a new perspective. It was like he'd been looking at life and war through a sheet of plain, flat glass all this time, and now; now he was looking at them through a prism, which turned ordinary white light into rainbow colours.

But not necessarily bright shades. He suddenly felt an overwhelming need to re-evaluate everything he knew, look at them through the prism, and see the dark sides he had been so blind to since he came to Hogwarts.

"H-how old was he?" He asked, suddenly finding his tongue again. Sarfaraz looked slightly startled, like he too had been lost in thought.

"He was born in 1961..."

Harry was silent. Only eighteen years old...

There was a slight scraping of chairs as Sarfaraz got up and went to refill his mug. Harry stared blankly at his for a moment before draining the cold tea inside with a single gulp.

"Have you had breakfast?" Sarfaraz asked.

Harry nodded. "Yes, I had some cereal half an hour ago. Sirius was there when I came down, and I made sure he had some too." He frowned. "Then he disappeared"

"I think he went to see his brother," said Sarfaraz absently as he perused the shelves of the fridge for something edible. He found an apple and an unopened granola bar which he shoved into his pocket for later.

"Why don't you just eat some cereal?" asked Harry at last, after hearing him mumble something about having to go to the grocery store. "There's still some milk left in the bottle"

Sarfaraz wrinkled his nose reflexively. "I don't eat cereal" He announced almost haughtily, shutting the fridge door and picking up his refilled mug of coffee. "It looks and tastes like pencil shavings"

Harry looked at him incredulously. The man sounded like a fussy child. "Seriously?"

Sarfaraz ignored him, choosing instead to tap away at the keyboard of his phone while munching on his apple. He was wearing an ordinary dark red t-shirt, Harry noticed, and deep brown boots made of a leathery material.

"I have to work out your training schedules today," said Sarfaraz abruptly, looking up from his phone and destroying the momentary peace. "And get through a mountain of paperwork. I hear Hermione's arriving today evening, as well as the Weasleys; I'll have to get their rooms done up, not to mention fix the evident lack of food. So you're free to stay out of my way and do whatever you want till then. It will be your last free day after all" There was a glint in his eyes that Harry did not like at all.

"Um, right," said Harry, picking up his book and beating a hasty retreat, not missing the slightly feral smirk that Sarfaraz threw at his back as he left. Suppressing a shiver at the thought of the weeks of training sure to follow, Harry hurried up the stairs to his room. Throwing open the door and securing it behind him, he sighed and looked around the room that would be his home for the next few weeks.

Forcefully ejecting the thoughts of the torturous days ahead for the second or third time that day, he flung himself down on the soft maroon sheets that covered his bed. The room did not have any of his personal belongings strewn around yet as he had only moved in the previous day when...

Again Harry forcefully derailed his train of thought.

He glanced down at the book he had been reading before Adonis – Sarfaraz – had walked in. Mastering the Mind while Morphing, a book that Hermione had hurriedly shoved into his hands before leaving with an Unspeakable to her parents' house.

Of course it had a title with alliterations. The wizarding world seemed obsessed with using them in the titles of anything from books to names, not to mention the puns. Harry had spent most of the night turning his hair different colours and trying out different lengths, having been unable to get any sleep. If Sarfaraz had noticed the distinctly brown tinge to his slightly shorter hair this morning, he certainly hadn't mentioned it.

He didn't want to try any morphing on his other body parts, fearing he wouldn't be able to turn it back. His scar, unfortunately, couldn't be disguised. It could, however, be moved to another part of his body, or change in shape, which was definitely a plus. He had experimented with different eye colours, but he didn't really want to change his natural green colour. It was about the only feature that showed his relation to his mother, Lily.

Ever since learning that his mother had been an Unspeakable, Harry had held on to the hope that the rest of the community would tell him about her. Sirius had told him a few stories about her wit and beauty but as he was now... otherwise preoccupied, he'd have to settle for what he had.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft whoosh from behind him. Before he could look around, his beloved Hedwig landed in front of him, holding two letters in her talons. She dropped them in front of him and tilted her head to the side, looking at him intensely out of intelligent amber eyes. Harry smiled softly and ruffled her white feathers before directing her towards a bowl of owl treats by his desk. She gave a gentle hoot before gliding gracefully towards her meal.

Harry put the envelopes down and looked at them carefully. One of them was from Gringotts. He set it aside and picked up the other one. It was from Ginny. Tearing open the envelope, he carefully pulled out the sheet of parchment inside. Smiling unconsciously, he unfolded it and began to read...

It was a complicated subject, abilities. The test itself required a drop of the person's blood, a strand of their hair and a bit of their nails all mixed with a special potion which was then poured on a sheet of ordinary parchment. It was the abilities that were so difficult to understand. A wizard's abilities weren't defined by their magical prowess or masteries of certain subjects. They differed from person to person, and were so obscure and random that it was impossible to put names to some of them. Many magicals did not even realise what they were able to do as the talents had to be honed to perfection with very specific training and practise for each. Robyn Style had come across several such people in her line of work.

The R.D. had managed to gather some information about the abilities of the Founders themselves by way of their memories, which had been recorded and stored by their informants inside Hogwarts. Robyn had just about squealed with excitement at the new techniques they had unearthed and oh, the sweet taste of new knowledge!

Rowena Ravenclaw had been an Illusionist. She had also trained herself in such a way that she was able to See at will most of the time. She was able to recreate real scenes like a pensieve would and even create fake ones at will. During a duel, she used both her talents together in a truly deadly combination. Her Sight allowed her to envision what a person dreamed of, and what spells they would throw. She would then utterly confuse them by flashing them scenes of either their dream future, actual reality or their own drastically exaggerated death. Often, this lead to her... victims... losing their sanity, as their grasp on reality was completely lost. It was like the Mirror of Erised.

Godric Gryffindor was a War Mage. This was a very rare talent that was very similar to Seeing. The difference was that he did not see the future, but what happened in a war as though it was a movie screen. It was also called a battle awen. When it was upon him, he was able to see each and every possible path to victory for either side, the possible outcomes and what was the best way to act about it. It also had the side effects of making him a dangerously skilled warrior, and giving him an unusual level of skill in Arithmancy and just about every type of weaponry there was.

Helga Hufflepuff's talent was called Vita. This literally meant Life. She could make plants and vines grow everywhere no matter the conditions. She had supreme control over them and often used them in a duel, making her a renowned duellist of her time. Opponents would find themselves covered in poison ivy or tied up tightly with tree bark without her so much as breaking a sweat. She was also able to heal simply by her hands. Wounds would close and scars would fade with a single touch of her fingers and a tightly controlled intent. Flowers on the verge of dying would renew their petals, and grass would grow tall and green under her feet.

Salazar Slytherin used a gift called Veritas. It worked like a mixture of Leglimency and Veritaserum. There was no actual defence to this ability. All he had to do to make a person spill their dirty laundry was to press his palm or fingers to their heads, lock eyes with them and after viewing their memories, ask some very incriminating questions. He was also of vampire heritage through his father, and this enhanced not only his speed, strength, senses and lifespan, but also allowed him to blend into darkness at will (making him a dangerous spy) and increased his natural healing rate.

The Battle segment had actually cheered, the Warriors excitedly talking about new strategies and weapons, ways to integrate them into their individual fighting styles and were all for throwing a humongous party to celebrate, but were turned down by the R.D., whose members got fed up of their ruckus. Although no one would be surprised if they came across a few empty firewhiskey bottles and chocolate wrappers in the Weaponry and training rooms the next day.

In the Infirmary, only one man noticed a pair of stormy grey eyes snap open.

Translations:

stupor nil pedicas- booby trap (in Latin)

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