Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor The Dresden Files.

Of Wands and Staves

Chapter Twenty-Five

John's gun was in his hand even before he really registered who was in his study. He had it up and pointed at the old man in a heartbeat, Nathan or Harry's name on his lips. One of the two would come and Dumbledore likely wouldn't survive the experience. But… he studied Dumbledore and lowered his gun as he did so, all without saying a word.

The old man looked... well, he looked older. More tired. Exhausted, in fact, with deep shadows under his eyes. John rather vindictively thought that it served the man right, considering the exhaustion that his son had to deal with almost two years ago, while he'd still had that awful horcrux inside of him, and the exhaustive therapy Harry had gone through trying to forget the nightmares the horcrux left behind.

And then, of course, there was the old man's arm. It was blackened and looked like it was ready to fall off at any moment. "You look like shit," John said honestly, calmly, as he settled across from Dumbledore. He should have been unnerved; that had obviously been the old man's intention. But John wasn't unnerved, or frightened. They were in his own territory, after all, and to attack him here would be an act of war that wizarding Britain could scarcely afford given the information that John was receiving.

Considering that the Headmaster had invaded his territory, John would have been perfectly within his rights to shoot the man. But he didn't. He would rather know what the idiot had to say and deal with it now than wait for it to blindside him and his family later.

"I'm a very old man, John," the Headmaster said quietly, no joy in his voice. "And I've made many mistakes. I have many, many regrets in life, John, but none so great as that which I'm about to share with you."

"I wasn't aware that I'd invited you here for you to share anything with me," John said coolly. He didn't want to waste his time beating around the bush and making idle conversation. Harry would never return to Hogwarts, and the Headmaster must have known that or he'd have come long before now to try and force John's hand. So this couldn't possibly be about that, which meant that it was something else. Perhaps it had something to do with the horcrux?

"It's about your son, John," the Headmaster continued, as though he hadn't heard him speak. "There's a prophecy, one that I did my best to keep quiet. But Voldemort knows it now, and there's nothing I can do to stop what's coming. He'll come for your son, John, and…" The Headmaster paused and took a deep breath. His voice wavered a bit as he said, "And it might be for the best if he succeeds."

John's eyebrows raised. So this was about the horcrux, then. He'd done some research into them after they'd removed the one from Harry, and he'd been appalled by what he found. But he bit that back and instead said, "You've got a lot of nerve, old man, telling me to let a monster kill my son. Just what gives you the right?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily and rubbed at his brow with his un-ruined hand. "I know that you don't understand this, my dear boy, but you must believe in me. Your son is at the center of a prophecy that dictates how Voldemort can be killed. If you don't allow him to die, that monster may forever walk this earth." In Dumbledore's defense, he sounded genuinely regretful at the idea.

John wasn't really willing to give him any points for that. "This is about the horcrux," he said bluntly. Clearly the old man wasn't going to actually tell him about it if he didn't force him to.

He had the joy, then, of watching Dumbledore's back stiffen in surprise. "You know of it, then?" Dumbledore asked quietly. "I'd hoped to spare you the truth of the matter, but if you already know-"

"Not only do I know, it's already been handled. The horcrux within my son is no longer a problem." John fell silent, then, and waited.

He wasn't disappointed. "How could you..." Dumbledore paused, stared into John's eyes, and John felt a tickle of something deep within his mind.

He broke the old man's gaze with effort and glared at him. "Try that again, Dumbledore, and you won't make it out of here alive," he cautioned. "I don't take kindly to people trying to read my mind."

"My apologies," Dumbledore murmured. "It's rare that a Muggle can detect what I'm doing in their heads," he added with a self-deprecating smile. "I know that doesn't make it right, but you'll have to forgive an old man his eccentricities."

"An eccentricity is the robe that you're wearing. What you just did should be a crime, and I don't have to forgive you anything," John said flatly. "Now. The horcrux has been removed from my son, and trust me, if anything comes sniffing after him I won't hesitate to put whatever it is down, whether it be this Voldemort creature or you yourself. Was there anything else?"

"Harry Potter is the child of a great prophecy. He is destined to defeat Voldemort," the Headmaster tried.

John shook his head. "Harry Potter is a sixteen year old boy who is destined to have a really great time at prom, followed by an excellent senior year. After that he'll go the college of his choice, and eventually, if that is his desire, he'll take over my position as Freeholding Lord of Chicago, where I'm sure he'll defeat many a Dark Lord, although I doubt they'll be the ones that you're thinking of." He paused, then added, "Mostly his Dark Lords will be made of paperwork."

"John... Mr. Marcone. I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation before us right now," Dumbledore tried.

John stood up, leaned forward, and placed his hands on his desk quite deliberately. "I don't think you understand," John said quietly. "Harry is my son. He is everything to me. He is also a child. He is sixteen years old right now. If you think for even a minute that I believe that your people need a child to do what your armies can't, then you're out of your mind."

"Our people can only do so much," Dumbledore murmured. "Voldemort made many, many horcruxes. Seven, to be precise. We've dealt with most of them; only two remain. We believe one to be inside his snake, and the other, of course, we believe to be the one in your son-"

"The one in my son is gone. I've told you this. It was removed by my Harry's godmother, a fae called the Leanansidhe. Perhaps you've heard of her?" John asked idly, trying his hardest not to lose his temper. It wasn't working all that well, but he'd be damned if he wouldn't try.

Shooting the obnoxious old man in his office would only mean that he would have to refurnish the whole thing to get rid of the blood spatters, and he was rather fond of his office as it was. The old man wasn't worth the effort.

"Fae are notorious for being able to manipulate a situation in the direction they so choose, Mr. Marcone. I don't know that I would trust her to have actually removed the fragment of Voldemort's soul, especially since there is no known way to remove such a thing without destroying the vessel."

John smiled thinly, his patience wearing almost as thin as his smile. A few more minutes of this and he'd be calling an interior decorator. "You may say what you will, Headmaster, but the fact of the matter is that before she came, Harry had not slept in over a month and his scar was constantly split open. Once she left, he slept peacefully once he was finished with the nightmares of the visions he'd had, and his scar faded into nothingness. Trust me when I say, the horcrux is gone."

Dumbledore leaned forward and said, "The prophecy-"

John's patience snapped. "Harry is a child! He's not a hitman! Now get the hell off my property before I have you thrown out," John snarled. He was through trying to reason with this idiot. Clearly there was no reasoning to be done.

Dumbledore opened his mouth to say something, and John closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were cold and very, very angry. He drew his gun once more, cocked it, pointed it at the old man's head, and said shortly, "That rot in your arm looks like it's going to kill you. Shall I see if I can do it faster?"

"I suppose I'll see myself out, then," Dumbledore said finally. He sounded even more exhausted than he'd looked when he'd come in.

John couldn't quite bring himself to care.

"Sigrun will show you out," he said flatly in response, and then called for her. As the Valkyrie escorted Dumbledore from his office, John settled behind his desk. Perhaps it was time to contact Monoc Securities once more and see what he could do about getting more guards for Harry.

If this Voldemort really was going to come after Harry, well, John wanted to make sure that they were ready and waiting.

"He won't, you know," a light voice said from behind him.

John would have been surprised, but he honestly wasn't. He'd said her name, after all, and Leanansidhe did like him. Not that Harry approved of their.. friendship, if one could use such a word when speaking of a being such as her.

"Who won't?" he asked, and stood to turn and greet her with a kiss on the cheek.

Lea leaned against his desk and smiled at him. "That Voldemort fellow. When I took the piece of his soul from Harry, I gave it back to him in exchange for his promise to leave Harry and his family alone. Voldemort accepted my proposal." The smile on her face said that it had likely been more of a threat than a proposal.

John smiled, and lifted one of her hands to his lips for a kiss. "My dear woman, the man would have to be far madder than he is to not accept a deal from a being such as yourself."

Her laugh rang out like a bell. "Flatterer," she murmured.

"Would you care to stay for dinner?" he asked.

Her lips twisted into a small pout. "What, so my dear godson can wonder at what trap I'm trying to set for him? No, John, I think not."

"You wouldn't be going off to threaten a certain old man, would you?" he asked, even as she began to disappear.

All that she left behind was her laughter.

John rolled his eyes and settled at his desk once again to start doing some of his paperwork. He had a mountain of it to get through and he wanted to at least finish some of it before dinner. The tap on the door stopped him before he could even begin.

"Why was Sigrun escorting the old man out?" Harry asked bluntly as he leaned against the door. "Also, don't think that I didn't hear my godmother laughing, because I did."

John rolled his eyes. "The old man wanted to try and convince us to let Voldemort kill Harry because of the horcrux. I think your godmother is going to go and scare him the rest of the way to death. You know how she adores him."

"She wouldn't adore him if you didn't encourage her to keep coming to family meals," Harry grumbled. He stepped further into the office and let the door shut behind him. "Were you alone in here with the old man?"

"We spoke for a while, yes, and then I lost my temper and offered to kill him. He was less than impressed with my offer."

"Huh." Harry grinned at him, then, a quick thing that flashed over his face like lightning. "Maybe I should check you over for spell residue. Just to make sure that the old man didn't do anything to you while you were alone with him."

"Spell residue? Is that really a thing?" John asked.

Harry crossed the room and was on his side of the desk before he finished asking his question. "It might be. I think I should thoroughly investigate the situation just to make sure."

"You always were an excellent investigator," John said agreeably, and pulled him down for a kiss.

The two of them were very late for dinner, but that was okay. They were also rather mellow when Harry came in at seven o'clock in the morning, a little bloody and a lot roughed up. Apparently something had attacked the prom, and Harry and Molly had managed to put it down, whatever it had been. That didn't account for the five or six hours that Harry had been gone, or the suspicious markings on his neck, but John supposed that those were just part of being a normal teenager.

And if there was anything that Harry deserved, it was a bit of normalcy. And normalcy also included being grounded, because situations like those were what cell phones were for.

A/N: That's it! Just an epilogue to go.